


The Story of Menma

by Anjelle



Series: The World Ended Yesterday [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Featuring some very bitter ANBU, Gen, Heroes to Villains, Missing-Nin, Naruto and Kurama as a team makes things wholly annoying for their enemies, Prelude to the End of the World, Villain!Naruto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: Naruto is a missing-nin, Iruka is dead and nothing is okay. The only one on his side is the 40ft tall demon fox sealed inside him, but for all that Kurama's grumpy, he's pretty good company. The ANBU are after him, too--apparently Konoha doesn't plan on letting go of its jinchuuriki. That's fine. He can take them. Well, maybe 'run away from' is more accurate. And the ANBU have wood release. And the sharingan. That's also fine. He'll manage.Naruto is his mother's son, his father's legacy, and Konoha's mistake. But that was never enough to stop him before. He'll forge his own path. He'll make his own mistakes. No one will tell him what to do—not the Fourth Hokage, not the old man, the ANBU or the village.Naruto will carve out his place in the world. And if he loses something along the way, maybe that's okay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I see you've stumbled upon my take of 'Naruto becomes a villain,' Friend. Be prepared for a lot of ANBU and a lot of Naruto bonding with Kurama.
> 
> Though technically the prequel to Outrunning Karma, this story can be read completely on its own so I'll share the same info I did on the other story: this story NOT canon compliant. There’s plot divergence. A lot of it. But there’re also a lot of things that don't fit with canon at all, examples being that Obito’s sharingan degrades with usage like other sharingan, and that the effects of the nine-tails sealed within Naruto are more extensive than what’s seen in canon. Also, the timeline has been mostly rewritten. Kakashi was in ANBU most of his life, Itachi never left the Leaf, etc. There are more, a lot more, but that’s all you really need to know right now. Don’t be surprised if something doesn’t line up with canon, because there will be a loooot of things that don’t.
> 
> Edit: I'm that stupid person who forgot to check the 'multiple chapters' box when I posted this oops.

* * *

 

CHAPTER 1

 

* * *

 

The world blurred into a haze of adrenaline and sweat as his eyes searched the scroll at his feet. The pounding of his heart blocked out conscious thought, his chest heaving with every laboured breath. The world did not matter. He took no notice of the wound in his side, burning away into seamless skin as though there was never a wound to start. Words hung in the air, muffled by the sound of the blood rushing to his head, and he did not hear.

The body at his feet was cold and still. So cold, so pale, so _wrong_. His hands shook. He rose them up, running them through his hair, his mouth forming words that his voice wasn’t brave enough to speak.

Iruka-sensei was all that he had. The _one good thing_ in the hell called Konoha.

His legs gave out beneath him and he folded over the body, held up by the fading strength in his open palms, nose-to-nose with the body of his teacher. Vacant eyes stared back. Vacant, empty, _soulless eyes._

He swallowed the bile in his throat and lifted a hand to Iruka-sensei’s shoulder, jerking it. Once. Twice.

He pressed his ear to the body’s chest but all he could hear was his own racing heartbeat.

That man was saying things but he did not listen. Something inside him snapped. He felt it—this _burning_ in his gut like an open flame. Slowly, he picked himself up. Heat pulsed through his body and he swayed to his feet. It hurt. It hurt and hurt and hurt and _hurt_ and Iruka-sensei was there and he wasn’t moving and _make it stop—_

_“I’ll take the pain away.”_

He looked down to his hands at the pulsing red energy bubbling up from his skin, at the nails stretching and twisting into claws. He licked the sharp edge of his teeth. The trembling stopped. The panic soon followed. He closed his eyes and embraced the wash of power consuming him.

There was a faint pain in his back and he jerked, stumbling forward against the weight of something sharp through his skin, catching himself before he fell onto the body of his beloved teacher still there, staring up with vacant eyes. Empty eyes. _Soulless eyes._

_“Call upon me, boy. I’ll take it all away.”_

He sucked in a breath and the metal in his skin corroded away like ash in the wind.

He looked up. Standing in the tree was the pale face of a man with pale hair and black eyes, brandishing the symbol of the Leaf on a blue bandana. The man’s grin pulled away, his eyes widening, and he laughed, long and loud and strained as he braced himself.

“Look at you,” the man breathed. “The child of the nine-tailed fox. It’s incredible.”

He growled low in his throat, his heartbeat drumming loudly all around him, and crouched low as the chakra around him built up into a haze. _You killed him. You killed my sensei._

When he closed his eyes he found the waiting paw of a massive beast pressing through the cold, unforgiving metal bars of his mind, and he reached out.

* * *

 

Looking through the slits of his ANBU mask, Kakashi could see the drawn, tired eyes of the Hokage’s face, masking worry behind a pipe and shielding the darkness of his thoughts beneath the shadows of his hat. The world was quiet, and they were alone. The morning sky bled a pleasant blue into the dull interior of the Hokage office, but right now it seemed so far away.

Kakashi had seen many things while serving as ANBU. This was not something that he knew.

Hiruzen’s fingers interlocked atop the desk before him and he let out a burdened breath. “The nine-tails jinchuuriki has fled the village,” he said, short and simple with the weight of the implications buried far beneath the surface. “I am assigning you the task of retrieving him. You have three days before this incident becomes a problem. Understand?”

Kakashi lowered his eyes from where he knelt before the Hokage, respectfully bowing his head. “Yes, Lord Third.”

Hiruzen set down his pipe and sighed. “Up,” he commanded, and Kakashi complied. “I’m sending you alone. It shouldn’t be difficult; Naruto was just frightened off. His teacher was killed right before his eyes, the poor child.”

Kakashi nodded, the painted mask blocking out his expression as he rose to his full height. “I will return with him shortly. You have my word.”

Hiruzen smiled. There was trust in that smile, undeserved trust. With a dismissing hand, Kakashi disappeared in a whirl of leaves and wind.

* * *

 

Naruto ran. He ran and ran and ran and _ran_ until his feet felt raw and the weight of the world pulled against his muscles. He ran against the sharp edges of branches and twigs as they scraped across his skin. He ran until his body couldn’t take it anymore. When he stopped, he slid down the base of a tree, guarded by its winding roots, and buried his head in his hands. Wide, trembling eyes stared hard at the ground. He could still feel the surge of power that encased him, coming from—from _something,_ something strange and terrible and _wonderful_ all at once.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and tried to breathe through the panic.

On the backs of his eyelids, he could see blood. There was a body at his feet, still and hollow and cold, and another at his side. Pale skin, pale hair. Dark eyes. Four gashes clawing through his chest. Corrosive chakra eating away at the fabric of his uniform.

Warmth dripping from his hands in the ensuing calm.

Naruto jerked his hands away and stared down at them, shaking as he fixated on the smears of blood staining his arms and now his face, no doubt. He flexed his fingers, feeling the sticky pull. No, no, it wasn’t on his face. It wasn’t sticky. Not anymore. The blood was dry, flaking off of his skin, dark against the air. It was dry because he’d only just stopped running.

A small, strangled noise rose up from his throat and he bit his lip to hold back the tears.

What had he done?

The boy pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and covered his face. His sleeves muffled the short, hiccuping sobs that forced their way out. His eyes burned and he hugged himself knowing that it was the only comfort that he would get.

* * *

 

Naruto stared down at his reflection in the river, rippling and waving as the water flowed continuously down. His face carried with it his exhaustion and he was all out of tears. The image shuddered away when his hands broke the surface. He washed the blood away vigorously but it was still on his sleeves, still there, the ever-present reminder. He would need to get new clothes. And food, because he needed food. He was hungry, or… he should have been.

Naruto wasn’t sure _what_ he was anymore.

The water chilled his skin and he lifted his hands out of the river, watching droplets roll off his skin in a daze. Time felt like it was passing on without him. He wasn’t sure how long he ran for, or how far he’d gone. Where he was. When he thought back to the landmarks he passed in his blind run, there was nothing. He didn’t know the first thing about how he would return to the village, where to go or who to ask. He didn’t even know if he _wanted_ to return.

Naruto splashed his face with water to try to startle away his lingering stupor. It wasn’t enough. The longer he was there, with his reflection in the water, the more he started to think. He stared at his hands.

That power. That raw, _unfiltered_ power. That was not his own. That was—that was the demon fox, the nine-tails sealed within him. And then, he could hear Mizuki’s words rippling throughout his thoughts like waves: _“You are the nine-tailed fox.”_

With a snarl, he slammed his fist into his reflection and rose out of a crouch, stumbling tiredly on his feet. It wasn’t true. It _wasn’t._ He knew who he was, and he was _not—_

From within, a raspy chuckle crashed through his thoughts. The voice was deep and echo-y like a far-off dream and it buzzed familiarity in the back of his skull. Slowly, carefully, Naruto sat back down and braced himself against it, looking at nothing.

_“You are not the fox, boy. I am.”_

Suddenly the world was dark. Water pooled around his legs but he couldn’t feel the chill, as though he weren’t really there, as though none of this was real. Claustrophobic walls lined the sides of a vast room and a steady drip bled through the quiet. He heard that laugh again—bone-chilling and haunting—and he twisted around. A set of impossibly large bars jutted out from the ground, disappearing into a ceiling he couldn’t see through the darkness. From beyond the bars stared two massive, red eyes across a towering silhouette. Naruto swallowed, cautiously twisting around to fully face the cage.

“Y—” He choked back his words, feeling an embarrassing tremble in his throat, and steadied himself. “You’re the fox?” he asked. “The—the one who…”

_“I am.”_

“You attacked the village.”

_“I did.”_

“...You _killed people_.”

_“Yes.”_

Naruto covered his mouth and forced back the bile in his throat. Mizuki was right. Mizuki hadn’t lied. That— _thing_ was inside him, sealed by the Fourth Hokage. He was the fox. Or—he was the container for the fox. And that massive swell of red chakra, that had been…

Him.

No one told him.

Naruto’s eyes fluttered and he huddled his arms around his chest to hide his shaking. That was why they looked at him like that, which such contempt. Disgust. They knew the beast contained within his body, knew what he was even when he, himself, was left in the dark. Why? Why did no one tell him, why—did _Iruka-sensei_ know? Did he? No. Iruka-sensei was the _one good thing_ in that village. The one good thing that ever happened to him.

No. He didn’t know. Couldn’t have.

The massive form before him shifted and he jumped, eyes up, watching the tailed beast with muted horror.

_“I can feel the hatred you carry.”_

Naruto flinched, digging his hands into the water, slowly leaning back to rest his weight on his palms. This guy was scary, sure, but… he was trapped in there. Couldn’t get out. There was a thing on the door to the cage—a seal, maybe? He couldn’t be sure—and it seemed to prevent him from going any further. There was nothing to fear. “I don’t hate nothin’, ya overgrown furball.”

The fox laughed again, amused for the moment, and Naruto swore he could see a smile somewhere behind all those teeth. _“Say what you will, boy. But I feel it. You’re just like me.”_

“I’m not—” He hissed, glaring up at the fox with bared teeth. “I’m _nothing like you,_ y’know! You—you killed the Fourth Hokage, and—”

 _“That fool did himself in,”_ the fox corrected, closing its eyes and resting its head on its paws. Like that, it didn’t seem so scary. _“He would have died even without my intervention. The reaper death seal is what took his life. Your stupid father only has himself to blame.”_

Naruto’s hand slipped and he yelped, falling back into the water. He scrambled to get himself up even though he didn’t feel cold or wet, like this was all an illusion, and sputtered as he turned those words over in his head. “My… father? Wh—what’re you sayin’?”

A large, red eye blinked open, staring down at Naruto with thinly veiled amusement. _“That horrid wretch never spoke a word of it to you. Your damnable lineage. Son of the Hokage and my last human jailor.”_

“The—the Hokage? The _Fourth_ Hokage?” he echoed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at nothing. But that couldn’t be right. “I-I’m his… son? And he… he sealed…”

The fox huffed, the tails flicking behind it causing the world to tremble beneath their force. _“Your father sealed half of my chakra within you that day, twelve years ago.”_

“B-but why—why would he—into his _son,_ I—” His hands fell to his sides and he gaped up at the massive beast beyond the metal bars, feeling small and helpless and all kinds of _weak._ “...I don’t understand.”

 _“I don’t pretend to understand the way you humans think,”_ the fox snorted, settling in comfortably. _“I curse that man beyond the grave for sealing me in here, with you.”_

Naruto fell silent. His arms felt loose and limp, hanging at his sides. The weight of the world fell to his shoulders and he buckled beneath it.

_“What is your name, boy?”_

“Naruto,” he muttered numbly. “Naruto Uzumaki.”

The fox huffed, but there was a smile behind its indifference. _“They chose that one, did they?”_

“Huh?” He blinked, pulled momentarily from his warring thoughts.

 _“Kurama,”_ came the derisive answer. _“Remember it well.”_

* * *

 

“Kurama,” Naruto called in a whine, clutching at his stomach, “I’m _hungry.”_

He could practically feel the eye-roll aimed at him from within the seal and felt the small satisfaction that came with it. Kurama was regretting giving him his name because Naruto hadn’t stopped calling it over the past two and a half days. Once the initial crushing shock wore itself thin, it became his new favourite word.

It had to. That name was all he had. Naruto hadn’t seen another soul in days and the forest was starting to feel vast and endless in a way that frazzled his nerves. He wondered if he would ever see the village again. He wondered if he wanted to.

The truth hurt. It hurt a _lot._ Naruto tried to compartmentalize it for later when he returned home, but he was starting to think that he didn’t want to go back, not to the people who wore lies in their smiles and contempt in their hearts. No one told him what he was, or who he was—and how was that fair? Why did it take the giant fox monster living in his body for him to find out the truth?

They hated him. He knew that—could feel it in their eyes, in the looks that he caught them sharing. They hated him and it _wasn’t his fault._ And now he knew why. He never had a chance at getting the villagers to accept him.

Hokage, huh? Yeah. Sure. Like they’d ever give the title to the fox demon container.

“Kurama!” he shouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “C’mon! Don’t ignore me!”

 _“What do you want me to do about that, brat? Eat if you’re hungry,”_ Kurama hissed.

“Eat what?”

_“Food.”_

Naruto narrowed his eyes, casting his glance around the forest. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I ain’t seein’ no food.”

The exasperated sigh made it all worthwhile.

But it did not change the fact that he was still very, _very_ hungry. He scrounged up some fruits—berries and the like—out of the trees yesterday, but hadn’t seen anything since. He didn’t know if he was headed the right way or not. Hell, he wasn’t sure if the right way was towards the village, or away from it. His mind started to wander to all of the things he could be eating in the village. Like ramen, ramen, maybe more ramen…

Ah. Teuchi probably thought of him like that, too, huh? Like a monster.

It soured his appetite.

Naruto smothered those thoughts and threw his hands behind his head, dragging his feet as he walked. “Man,” he sighed, “I could really go for some pork ramen, y’know?”

_“Naruto.”_

“At this point, even just plain white rice would be n—”

_“Naruto. Don’t speak.”_

He frowned, opening his mouth to do just that when he felt a warning flare up within him, a chill running up his spine.

_“We are being followed.”_

Naruto tensed and stopped midstep, his eyes wide. Suddenly he could feel it, and he didn’t know _how_ —a chakra signature flickering to life in the copse of trees to his left. He could feel his heart pounding within his chest all the way up to his ears. Who? Who would be following him? Bandits? Mizuki—no, Mizuki was dead, he could still see the blood on his hands.

_“Don’t look.”_

He couldn’t help it. His eyes lifted to the trees and he could see a black pant leg hidden by the leaves. The moment he looked it was gone and he blinked, rubbing his eyes, wondering if he was just seeing things.

Then that man was there before him, inches from his face, and he stumbled back with a yelp. He managed to brace himself against the edge of the riverbank—he’d been following the river because he didn’t feel like he had much choice as losing a source of water would leave him as good as dead—and his arms pinwheeled to keep him from diving in. Finally, he was steady, releasing a breath. The man was ANBU; the uniform was unmistakable, the tattoo on the man’s shoulder even more so. He was a Leaf shinobi.

“U-um,” he stuttered out stupidly. “Y’here to, like, k-kill me or something?”

The ANBU shifted, one hand on his hip and the other outstretched. “I’m taking you back to Konoha,” he said behind the mask. “The Hokage sent me.”

Naruto blinked. “The old man did?”

That hand was waiting there, expectant, and he hesitated. He wasn’t all that sure he _wanted_ to go back. The thoughts whirling around in his head were jumbled and confusing and he hadn’t made sense of anything yet. He needed more time.

_“Play along.”_

“I—”

_“Don’t speak. He’ll know. Listen to me and I’ll get you out of this, Naruto. Do you want to go back?”_

No. He didn’t. Not yet.

_“Then play along.”_

Naruto swallowed back his words and took the hand that was offered to him.

* * *

 

The ANBU was quiet. Too quiet. It was quiet before the ANBU started guiding him back to Konoha, sure, but at least when he was alone there wasn’t a stifling tension in the air. And at least while alone he could actually _talk_ to Kurama.

Kurama was better company than this guy. At least Kurama answered him… sometimes.

“Er—” He flinched when the masked faced found its way to him, casting his eyes to the dirt. He didn’t like when that guy faced him, shifting and hunching and kicking the ground. The mask gave away no tells. He couldn’t guess what was going on behind it; if the man was mad or bored or happy. “What—what should I call ya?”

“Hound,” the ANBU said, his voice echoing behind his mask.

Naruto nodded, his shoulders slumped, and he felt some relief when he got an answer. Every other question was left hanging. He started to think that everything he asked would be.

With a grin, he stepped out into the road before Hound, blocked the path, and pointed to himself. “Naruto Uzumaki. I’m gonna—”

His eyes widened. The words stuck in his throat.

Hokage. He couldn’t. It wouldn’t matter if he did; no one would accept him, the fox child, the container for the nine-tailed fox.

Hound was there, waiting. Silent. Expecting an answer.

Naruto plastered on a fake smile. “I’m gonna be the world’s greatest ninja!”

Hound cocked his head to the side, said nothing, and marched on. With a pout, Naruto dragged his feet behind the ANBU.

Hunger was still a thing. Hound gave him some food pills, but it was hardly enough to make up for all of the meals that he missed. The hunger was a constant distraction, even as Kurama fed him instructions on what to do or say to get out of this mess. For now, they waited. They needed to get a ways away from the river so that they could put some distance between themselves and Hound before taking a nice afternoon dip. Kurama’s plan involved a lot of shadow clones and a _lot_ of water.

Kurama said that he recognized this man from his time within Mom. Mom was the last container before Naruto. So this man… knew Mom. And Dad, probably.

He probably knew what Naruto was, too.

They waited until Hound seemed distracted—confident that there wouldn’t be any other hassles on his mission—to make their move. With his back turned, Naruto’s hands came together in a seal and he grinned.

A shadow clone popped into existence beside him. Hound took notice, looked back—

By the time he did, Naruto was running. _Both_ Narutos were running.

Hound was hot on their tracks, sure, but the moment they were out of sight, both Narutos produced more clones. Two, then four, then eight, then sixteen. Again and again and again and _again_ until they were swamped within a sea of ripped orange jumpsuits and blond hair, until it was safe enough for the original to slip out and make a break for the river. Then the running started. It was a long ways back; they’d been travelling for a good two hours now and he wasn’t looking forward to how exhausted he would be at the end of this all.

One by one, Hound slashed through his clones. They all scattered off in different directions to lead him off the original’s trail. None fought back; Kurama told him not to, that he’d be no match for an ANBU in his current state, and he listened.

He trusted Kurama. No one else had ever been honest with him.

The moment the water was in sight, Naruto plugged his nose and cannonballed in. He hit the water with a smack and squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath and allowing his body to follow the stream. He floated to the surface, arms and legs splayed, and stared numbly up at the blue sky.

Well. Now he was officially a fugitive.

_“Regretting it?”_

Naruto shook his head, a slow grin curling his lips. “Nah,” he sighed. “I think—I think I hated that place. I think you’re right.”

Kurama’s laughter was like music to his ears. Maybe he shouldn’t be trusting the demon his father sealed away. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he was tired of people dictating his life.

Maybe he would follow his own path.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the horrifying realization that it's been 10 years since my first year of high school. So, to distract myself from the crushing reality of time, I'm updating all of my fics :') Enjoy!

“Kurama,” he pleaded like a mantra, an overused name, and he could already hear the fox's contempt, “I'm _hungry.”_

Kurama's exasperation was the best. It was the closest thing to a prank that he could do, with the beast sealed within his own body. _“Then do something about it, brat.”_

“Yeah, yeah.”

He _was_ doing something about it. Placed beside him were the carcasses of two rabbits, skinned and ready to be cooked, and he thanked his demon fox for granting him such good reflexes in times like that. Rabbits were fast. And squirmed a lot. And he was running out of supplies to make traps.

Now he just needed a fire. ‘Eat them raw,’ Kurama said, but last time that was _disgusting_ and he had standards. Was a fire a risk? Did it have the potential to lead his pursuers straight to his location? Oh yeah. No doubt. But Naruto was going to _cook his meat_ and no hunter-nin was gonna stop him.

Besides, fires were only a liability if they were _lit._ Naruto did not have the patience for fires and took no tools with him when he left. It was a _bit_ spur-of-the-moment. He's been at this for twenty minutes now, and he was getting _bored._

Then there was a spark and a cheer and he was stoking the fire with a level of care comparable to a parent with a small, accident-prone child until it rose to full maturity.

The sun went down, smoke went up, and Naruto was on his way to having a decent meal for the first time in days.

It'd been over a month. And boy, after Hound failed to catch him, the Hokage sure got persistent. The amount of Konoha-nin sent to retrieve him was _actually_ ridiculous; the whole damn forest was crawling with them and he was starting to think that he would have to leave Fire Country if he wanted to get away. Which, well, he was _fine_ with… He didn't really belong to a country anymore. A village. The only one on his side was the one inside him, the one that couldn't escape him.

“Hey, Kurama,” said Naruto, prodding the meat over the open flame. A little longer. “Could you tell me about my mom?”

_“My last jinchuuriki.”_

“Yeah. Her.”

That word—jinchuuriki. That was the label for the tailed beast containers. Kurama told him a lot about what that meant, about how coveted they were by the hidden villages, sought after as living weapons. That was why Konoha was looking for him. The old man wasn't worried about him. It wasn’t because of blind sentimentality. It was because their _tool_ had _defected._

And that was okay.

_“Kushina Uzumaki. How I resented that woman and her chains.”_

Naruto grinned, his eyes squeezed shut as he leaned back and listened. Of course, he _knew_ Kurama was a biased source, and that he'd only ever get a one-sided story by asking. That was okay. It was okay because he already _knew_ all of that, and Kurama was the only one who would tell him anything at all.

He wasn't sure on his feelings of his father, of Minato Namikaze, but he felt fond things for his mother, for the woman who was trapped with the same jinchuuriki title that he was.

The fox was quiet. Naruto thought about retreating into his mindscape where the seal rested to have a one-on-one conversation, but Kurama chastised him last time; he'd almost gotten caught by the scouts.

Naruto pouted. ”C'mon, Kurama! Tell me! Please?”

The fox snorted. _“She was an Uzumaki. One who hails from Uzushio.”_

“Uzushio?”

_“A long fallen ally of the Leaf.”_

“Oh. Huh.”

Naruto never gave his name much thought. It was just a name, after all—he never thought it'd be a _clan_ name, of all things. There were a few clan children back in the academy. All of them had super cool clan-exclusive abilities and techniques. Far as he knew, Naruto had nothing like that.

Well. He had the fox. The thing that nearly destroyed the village. But Kurama wasn't that bad a guy, just grumpy. Temperamental, too, and he gleaned amusement from the hatred of others. But for all that he had bad traits, Kurama was blunt and honest in a way that no one had ever been with Naruto before.

_“The Uzumaki are adept at fuinjutsu. The seal that binds you and I is taken very much from their knowledge.”_

Naruto grinned and pulled the meat off the fire. “So Mom was real good at that seal stuff?”

_“Your father even more so. He was considered a master.”_

That sullied Naruto's mood and he bitterly tore into the meat. “Figured that.”

Of course the guy who sealed _the tailed beast_ into his own damn son would be a master of sealing. Naruto never thought otherwise. Plus, he was the Fourth Hokage; it would be weird if he didn't have a lot of unique skills to warrant the title.

Naruto shoved bitter thoughts of the Hokage to the back of his mind and grinned. “Forget him—what was Mom like? Was she strong? Bet she was, if she kept _you_ in check.”

Kurama growled, the sound echoing in his mind, and it brought him great satisfaction. He loved irritating the furball. _“She was spirited. You look like that damned Hokage, but you take after her far more.”_

Good. _She_ wasn’t the one who made a monumental decision about his life right from birth. Dear old Dad was entirely to blame for that.

He wondered what she looked like. He wondered if there were any pictures of her hidden away in Konoha somewhere.

Tossing the bones of the first rabbit aside, he snatched up the second and—

_“They’re approaching.”_

Naruto stopped, the meat halfway to his mouth, jaw open and waiting, and scrunched up his face in a pout. “Aw, come on! _Really?”_ He brought his hands together into a seal. A few shadow clones could get them off his tail.

_“That won’t work this time, kit.”_

“Huh? Why not?”

_“I suspect the Hokage will have sent the Uchiha after you by now.”_

Naruto put a face to the name, a classmate with dark hair and dark eyes, hanging off the arm of a doting older brother. “Er… so? I could take ‘em.” Probably. Hopefully. No, he could, because he was going to be the strongest ninja _ever._ If he couldn’t take out a few guys like _that_ every once in a while, he didn’t deserve to have such high aspirations.

 _“Fool,”_ growled Kurama, _“we can’t alert them by diverting with your clones. There’s too much at risk. The Uchiha have the sharingan.”_

“The wha?”

_“We need to disappear.”_

Disappear, huh? Naruto shoved his dinner into his mouth and held it between his teeth, changing his hand sign before his body flickered out of sight.

* * *

 

Kakashi raised an arm and his ninken scattered into the trees, taking with them the scent of their target jinchuuriki.

A part of him wondered just how long this mission would go on for. Surely a child still in the academy couldn’t run from a specialized ANBU retrieval team forever.

That was what he thought one month ago, too, when the jinchuuriki boy used shadow clones to escape into the river. The river washed Naruto’s scent, and even following it Kakashi was unable to hunt the boy down. Then the end of the third day came to pass and he had no choice but to begrudgingly report to the Hokage about his failure.

The kid failed his graduation exam. How could _that boy_ have ever learned the shadow clone jutsu in the few hours that the scroll was missing? But these were all just excuses because Kakashi knew very well that none of this would have ever happened if he hadn’t underestimated his target.

That was Kushina’s boy. Minato’s son. He would be full of surprises.

The pair scouting ahead turned back to him, waiting, silently goading for instruction, and he closed his fist. They stopped, staring at him from behind their ANBU masks.

“We’ll wait on their signal,” he supplied, pushing on past the pair and peering over the cliff edge to the ten-foot drop that brought them to the next section of forest. They were thorough as they combed every area, and they knew by way of his ninken and reports from other teams that set out to find the Uzumaki boy that they were on the right track. He’d been seen in this area five days prior to their arrival; now that they were there, they just need to figure out what direction he would go in. Logic dictated that he’d take to the river as he had in the past, but that seemed almost too easy. Any self-aware runaway would know that keeping to the same plan would get riskier by the day; it was only a matter of time before the pursuers caught on. So what would his next course of action be, then?

Kakashi knew that, if anyone, this team would be ideal in capturing the jinchuuriki. It made him a bit sentimental, leading this team again after so many years. Itachi of the Sharingan. Tenzo, the wood release user. And himself, a carrier of the sharingan in his own right, but also a proven ANBU captain. He wasn’t so much concerned about catching the boy; it was the _finding_ part that was proving a hassle. The boy knew when to divert with clones or traps and when to just up and disappear. The clones, the traps—those were all well and good against the other teams sent out to locate the boy.

So why had they not seen hide nor hair of their target since setting out?

“This kid’s really something, huh, Captain?” Tenzo mused. There was a smile in his voice, unwarranted as it was. “Retrievals like this aren’t usually such a hassle.”

Kakashi closed his eye and sighed, leaning back from the cliff to face his squad. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Strange. His academy teachers called him ‘hopeless.’ We’re taking five. Rest up and eat until we have a track to follow.”

They all settled on the cliffside, rummaging through their supplies for ration bars. The masks came off. In this mission, there were no enemy ninja. They weren’t there to harm the jinchuuriki, but to bring him back to the village. Lord Third was very adament that they only use force if they saw no other alternatives; Naruto was a scared child, he reminded them, and needed to be treated as such. So, with no assassinations expected and minimal fighting involved, this mission should have felt like a break. An easy two or three days of travel, location, secure and return.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t because this was Konoha’s only jinchuuriki they were looking for. It wasn’t, because the jinchuuriki allegedly did not even know the power that he carried within himself. It wasn’t, because that boy’s retrieval was vital to the village’s safety. No one could know about this.

Well. Kakashi was very used to missions with dire consequences. This one just stung more than most, reminded of his failure.

They waited out the return of the dogs in relative silence. Kakashi was a very introspective man; his thoughts were continually moving, evaluating, but outwardly he understood himself to be a rather quiet man. Much like himself, Itachi was a shinobi of light smiles and few words. That left Tenzo to do most of the talking, which wasn’t a lot.

Tenzo swallowed back the last of his ration bar and looked between them with friendly eyes and a kind smile. The urgency of their mission was there still, pushed down and buried until it was needed, but above all Tenzo was the well-mannered sort. He took his missions seriously, but sometimes the stoic mask had to crack. This, in the middle of a cross-country treck through Fire Country forests, was one such time. Maybe Tenzo saw how frustrated Kakashi was beneath his own practiced indifference.

“To think it would take a rogue jinchuuriki to get us on a team together again,” said Tenzo, shaking his head and turning to Itachi. “Team Ro hasn’t been the same without you.”

Itachi smiled. It was a passing gesture but one that felt genuine, as though Itachi appreciated the sentiment.

Kakashi wished their reunion was under better circumstances.

They packed up, and now they just had to wait. The fact that not even Pakkun returned worried Kakashi that they weren’t able to find the target’s scent. That rarely ever happened; it wasn’t like he blindly sent his summons chasing a scent without first knowing that the target _should_ have been in that area sometime recently. But maybe the downtime was good; it gave them a chance to reevaluate their situation.

Once everything was where it needed to be, Kakashi looked between his teammates. “Uzumaki has shown himself to every other team but ours,” he stated, his mind on the latest reports Pakkun delivered from the Hokage. “Team Ro was formulated specifically for the capture of a jinchuuriki. That being the case, I’m not entirely convinced that Naruto Uzumaki is avoiding us by his own power.”

The smiles were gone and the mission came first.

“You’ve met the boy,” Itachi observed. That was the first time he’d opened his mouth all day.

Kakashi nodded. “Ah. I have.” He recalled the genuine fear in the boy’s eyes, wondering if Kakashi was sent on a much darker mission. The boy thought the Hokage wanted him dead right from the start. That nagged at him. But still, Naruto came along. Tried to start conversations. _Engaged_ the ANBU. And Kakashi, in kind, observed him. “He’s getting help from somewhere. I’m sure of it.”

“Could someone be manipulating him?” Tenzo questioned.

“Well,” Kakashi sighed, making a vague gesture that was neither here nor there. It was possible. Currying favour with a jinchuuriki would be in anyone’s best interest, Leaf shinobi or otherwise. That was a lot of untapped power to have on one’s side. “Regardless, I don’t believe the kid knows to avoid us. He’s being told to.”

“And this ‘help’ knows who we are,” Itachi continued, laying an arm over his knee as he shifted.

“You and I,” Kakashi corrected. A lazy eye fell to Tenzo. “No one should have information on your ability, though. Not outside of Root or ANBU. Your wood release is a more well-guarded secret than our sharingan.”

Tenzo frowned and nodded. “Understood.”

Kakashi smiled. “You’re our trump card, Tenzo. When the time comes, you’ll be the one to complete this mission.”

* * *

 

The cool thing about Kurama was that he knew a lot. That shunshin thing he learned was _super_ cool. It was the very first thing that Kurama guided him on, and it wasn’t so much _hard_ as it was confusing. But Kurama, for all that he was a giant ball of unbridled hatred, had the patience of the Sage.

Naruto threw his arms behind his head and dragged his feet as he walked, looking here and there at the, at that point, _very bland_ scenery. A forest is a forest is a forest. And he was so _sick_ of forests. He missed ramen. For one last taste of Ichiraku, Naruto would risk capture in a heartbeat.

The heavy rain from the previous day left deep puddles in the uneven earth, the squelch of mud unpleasant beneath his sandels. He stilled, staring down at his reflection in the dirty brown water pooled by tree roots. His face was caked in mud and grime from a night of nonstop travel. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, tired and lifeless and all kinds of miserable. And his clothes, for all that he cleaned them whenever he could, were ruined. That orange jumpsuit, once a beloved, flashy show of his character, was now dyed a muted brown, torn and weathered and stained with the red of old injuries.

He laughed. He laughed because his sorry state was so pitiful that he _had_ to laugh.

They couldn’t continue like this, not if this was going to be his life. He couldn’t spend the rest of his days sleeping in the trees and hunting wild game with clothes that barely held up against his movements. He needed supplies and a place to sleep, real food and—

Money. He needed money. He needed money and he was never even made a genin.

_“We’re far enough away now. You can relax.”_

Naruto stuck up his nose with boastful confidence that he didn’t quite feel, wearing it as a guise against his spiralling thoughts. “Like I was worried. I could have taken ‘em, Kurama.”

_“Fool. The sharingan is very effective against my power. And yours.”_

His brow scrunched as he thought. “Mmm… that’s the eye-thing you were talkin’ about, right? That the one guy had—the guy who broke Mom’s seal?”

_“Yes. The man who released me onto the village was an Uchiha.”_

So even the nine-tailed fox had weaknesses, huh? “Why do you think they were those Uchiha guys, anyhow? All the others were pretty, er…”

_“Unremarkable.”_

“Lame,” he corrected smartly.

Kurama snorted. _“Their chakra signatures were more profound than those pedestrian trackers. That damned Hokage is no fool. By now, he would have utilized every advantage he has on us. He’ll be getting desperate.”_

Naruto frowned but said nothing. Right. The old man was after him. Some days, it felt like this was just a really long, hazardous camping trip—that one day it would all be over and Naruto would return to his village, go to the academy, and harass Iruka-sensei until graduation.

But Iruka-sensei was dead and the village was full of liars. And he was a monster. _Their_ monster, who they very much wanted back.

Kurama told him a little about what that sharingan-thing was. He didn’t entirely get it, but he was coming to find that he didn’t much like the sharingan, either. The man who attacked the village used it to control Kurama. And these Uchihas would use it to bring him home.

Naruto scrubbed his eyes and yawned. He started moving again, swaying through the trees. One day he’d find a town. Maybe he could beg some innkeeper for a room in exchange for work. Naruto wasn’t exactly experienced, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in tenacity.

He scented blood on the air and sharp eyes snapped left. He sniffed, trying to discern it, and could feel Kurama’s amusement.

 _“Old blood,”_ the fox supplied. _“Nothing to worry over.”_

“I wasn’t worried,” he said matter-of-factly, following the scent into dense brush. With any luck, he’d find a ninja corpse. And, with _dumb luck,_ there would be abandoned supplies that he could snag.

Past a few overgrown shrubs, Naruto found the prone body of a very dead shinobi. Wounds from a kunai decorated his chest and there was no getting up from that. It wasn’t the first body he found while traversing through Fire Country, and he doubted that it’d be the last. It was a good sign, though.

Naruto felt some guilt over what he was about to do, but in matters of survival everything was fair game and he doubted this poor guy would be needing his stuff any longer.

With a smidge of reluctance, Naruto crouched down by the corpse and started searching through the pouches of the man’s uniform. With a triumphant hum, he found a handful of ryo, a few unused shuriken, and a sealing scroll. With any luck, it’d have more supplies sealed inside that he could use. Even if it was empty, a sealing scroll could maybe prove useful if he ever, well, had anything to carry.

Before he could rise, he took a good, long look at the man. Poor guy never stood a chance.

Naruto clapped his hands together and closed his eyes. “Sorry. And thanks. You’re _really_ helping me out, y’know!”

His eyes found the man’s headband and he swallowed, staring at the nostalgic symbol of Konoha brandished across the metal plate. And there was regret there, hard and long and pooling like a bottomless pit in his gut, even before he did anything.

He slipped his fingers beneath the metal plate and carefully pulled the headband off, holding it in front of his eyes to observe the symbol and all of the mixed feelings that it gave him.

“I never got one of my own, y’know,” he told Kurama, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the engraving. “Iruka-sensei failed me. I never got to be a genin.”

_“That pointless human ranking system is beneath you.”_

Naruto laughed, but it was tired and short. There was blood on the headband, staining the fabric, long-dried. It probably wouldn’t come out.

“Genin or not,” he smiled, “I’m gonna be the greatest ninja. Just you wait. I’m gonna get stronger and go back and kick _all_ their asses!”

And Kurama laughed. And it felt nice.

He held onto the headband as he stood and left, his eyes on that symbol like a trance.

* * *

 

Two months. Two months of following half-faded trails of long distance shunshins, two months of chasing a target that started to feel more phantom than human, two months of little progress and lacking supplies and low morale.

And there he was, in all his jinchuuriki glory. And for a moment, Kakashi wasn’t sure what to do. It had been such a long-fought battle against odds and now it was over, and they could go home. There was just one thing left to do.

A kunai split the wood of the tree by Naruto’s face, Itachi’s first ploy—to startle the kid, to get him to look up, make eye contact—but Naruto didn’t so much as flinch.

A hand sign later and there were shadow clones, and it was a relief because they _knew_ shadow clones, they prepared for this. Systematically they cut the clones down one by one by one, Itachi’s sharingan eyes trained on the crowds, trying to notice a fluctuation in chakra, a tell that would lead them to the original.

Itachi made a hand sign and set his eyes on one of the bodies of brown-robed jinchuuriki.

“Right.”

Tenzo knelt. Shoots of wood sprang up from the earth and spiralled around the body—but then it flickered away and the wood trapped _nothing_ and Kakashi was already following the body with his headband pushed up and both eyes locked.

They followed through grass and trees against the high-noon sun and then he was there, his clones gone, standing in the dark-cast shadows of the leaves, looking their way with red eyes that never reached their faces.

Red eyes.

Kakashi recalled the smiling student from that day two long, unending months ago. Naruto Uzumaki had blue eyes. Naruto Uzumaki did not bear his teeth like a cornered animal.

Something was wrong.

He looked left. “Tenzo—”

“A _wood user,”_ Naruto hissed, and it ended in a laugh as he backed himself into a tree, his eyes darting between the three encroaching on him but never making eye contact. “Of all the _cursed_ things that Hokage could—”

This… wasn’t Naruto Uzumaki, was it?

Tenzo was already acting. Pillars sprang up from the tree behind the jinchuuriki and swept around to coil the boy within them. But Naruto ducked out before they could latch on, his cloak flourishing around him in the wind, and he shot forward.

Itachi remained still, calm and collected as the nine-tailed child charged at him. Genjutsu. It was over. The moment that the boy was caught in it, it was over. No child could—

Itachi’s eyes widened slightly as Naruto launched into the air, arm pulled back, kunai tight-gripped. He skirted out of the way as the blond flash hit the dirt with a whirl of wind, narrowly missing the edge of the kunai. Naruto grinned. Itachi narrowed his eyes.

He dispelled it. That little runt, who hadn’t even graduated from the academy.

Alright. Fine. They’d play.

Kakashi shot forth, flashing an ANBU hand sign to Tenzo behind his back: _seal._ Tenzo steadied himself and his hand went up, following the bouncing body of the fox as it put distance between them.

Because that _was_ the fox. That was not Naruto. The seal weakened, or Naruto lost control, or—regardless, that _was not Naruto._

In a flicker of movement, Kakashi cut the boy off and sent a knee into Naruto’s stomach. There was a choking noise, a loss of air, and then—

A puff of smoke.

_Shit._

“Itachi,” he called sharply because Itachi’s skills outweighed his own in this regard, and he would readily admit it.

With a cursory glance the Uchiha’s arm went up, lips parted.

But Naruto was already falling through the trees, his body a mask of corrosive red chakra, two tails thrashing behind him. Teeth bared in a snarl. Kakashi caught his arm before the weapon could make contact. The chakra _burned._ He winced but kept his grip, holding fast as Naruto writhed and wriggled and _bit._

And the boy was strong. Far stronger than any twelve-year-old should be. But even as his skin reddened and blistered and _peeled_ he held on and shoved the boy back, body flush with a tree. His other arm came up, the cold edge of a kunai promising bad things against Naruto’s throat.

Then the fox stilled. The clawing stopped, arms fell limp at its sides, but it still would not meet the sharingan eye.

“ _Now,_ Tenzo,” he called over his shoulder.

Wooden pillars shot out from around them and twisted around Naruto’s limbs. Hisses and snarls promised empty threats and he struggled in vain against his wooden prison. Kakashi let go, stepped back. Soon Itachi was observing at his side with mild interest.

Tenzo dashed out from behind them and charged at the fox, placing his hand flush against Naruto’s chest. The ground cracked and crumbled at their feet, stocks of wood breaking through the earth to encircle them. The glow of chakra came next as Tenzo put distance between himself and the target.

Kakashi watched with narrowed eyes as the corrosive red aura burning Naruto’s body receded, the tails breaking up into the air like nothing, and it all felt too easy. Too simple. Too _instant._ But Kakashi knew nothing of wood release, how it worked or why it subdued the tailed beast. He just knew that it did, and trusted his comrade’s skills enough to remind himself that _this was okay._

It didn’t settle well.

Their target went limp. His eyelids fluttered tiredly, heavily. The red of his irises leeched away into calm blue and he glanced at each of their faces—first Tenzo, then Itachi, before settling on the captain’s.

Naruto blinked. “Hound?”

His head shot up. Squirming turned to flailing as he tried to break free with newfound panic rising up, and he was scared. So, _so_ scared, and suddenly this was a child and not the fox, and the unease tensing the air evaporated like water.

“H-hey,” Naruto called, looking between them, “w-what’s goin’ on? Who’re you?”

The ANBU exchanged signals and Tenzo nodded, pulling his wood loose and allowing the boy to fall to the ground.

Naruto scrambled back until he pressed against the roots of a tree, clawing at the dirt. “U-um…”

It was Itachi who approached, taking a knee before the small bundle of worried blond. He removed his mask, casting it to the ground with a kind of care that Kakashi wasn’t used to seeing on duty. Looks like those were usually reserved for Sasuke, Itachi’s younger brother. “The Hokage sent us,” he said. “We’re here to return you to Konoha.”

“Wh—” Naruto swallowed. This time he met their eyes, easily and instantly and he was so clearly _not_ the fox and it brought each of them relief. “You’re, um… ANBU?”

Itachi diverted with an easy smile. “Those were some skillful maneuvers, Naruto. I’m impressed.”

Naruto stared, long and hard, and his face scrunched up as he searched empty thoughts. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Itachi just continued to smile, collecting his mask and rising to his feet. He offered Naruto a hand, one that was hesitantly accepted, and pulled the boy up with him.

Naruto didn’t remember. That… made sense, Kakashi supposed, but everything just felt so abrupt that he had trouble believing it. Either way, it was a sign that the seal wasn’t holding up as well as they liked. He wondered how long Naruto was like that for, under the influence of the beast sealed within. He wondered if the fox was to blame for the unending journey this mission devolved into. He wondered a great many things, but for now, it could wait.

Mission complete.

They could go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's left comments and kudos for the story! I've loved talking with you all and I'm happy to see that people are excited. Things move fast in this story but we've got a long way to go, so I hope you'll stick around for the ride!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back. Glad y'all seem to be enjoying it!

The problem with long-standing missions was not the journey there, but the journey back. Tracking down the Uzumaki child may have taken them two months, but naturally, making a beeline back to Konoha would cut down on time; it would only be about a week’s journey, possibly less if Naruto didn’t drag his feet. So it wasn’t that time was a problem, either. But now that they had their target, they had to worry about  _ keeping _ their target. Using as little force as possible, under the Hokage’s orders.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t hard. Naruto followed along easily, so much so that they decided against using any genjutsu on him.

They found themselves out of uniform, their masks tucked away, in a no-name village riding the border of Fire Country. This was the worst possible scenario, but one they deemed necessary after a lengthy discussion. Their supplies were low. They were on their last rations of food pills, having only packed enough for three weeks to start, and while returning the jinchuuriki to Konoha was top priority, they needed to consider their target’s health.

Naruto did not look well. He was thin, scrawny from months of poor meals and weak from lack of sleep. His wounds were healing slowly—from the briefing the Hokage gave them at the start of their mission, this was highly unusual for a jinchuuriki and likely not a good sign. Overall, the boy just looked tired.

Naruto didn’t remember much of anything from after his last encounter with Kakashi, meaning that the fox had to have taken hold early on. Whether it was a continuous thing or reoccurring control they couldn’t be sure, but Naruto was  _ thankful _ to be escorted back to the Leaf. That was good. That meant that they didn’t have to use force on a child. Naruto was cooperating. Finally, after two months of long, arduous search, their struggle was over.

Naruto was  _ cooperating. _ Thank the Sage.

The boy threw his arms behind his head and grinned as Itachi dealt with the receptionist at the local inn. “Ramen, ramen,” he sang because apparently, they were getting ramen tonight.

ANBU did not rent rooms in local inns. ANBU did not stay in villages. ANBU  _ certainly _ did not take their masks off and walk around in civilian clothes while on a mission. These were all things that were  _ very much not okay, _ but there they were.

Twelve hours of whining from a half-starved, half-dead jinchuuriki will do that. Even Itachi caved. If they were marked for treason, they would go down together.

“Oooooh!” Naruto cheered, running into the spacious yet empty room, an eager bounce to his step and light in his eyes. “It’s a room. With walls _. _ With  _ walls, _ Hound!”

Kakashi sighed. The brat was looking many times less dead. He wondered how much of it had been an act aimed at pity. “Yes, yes, I can see that.”

“And a  _ roof. _ Tenzō—” Naruto’s head snapped to the wood user and there were actual  _ tears _ in his eyes. “Tenzō, a roof!”

Tenzō smiled easily and stretched his arms as he settled down on the floor. He’d taken a strange shine to the kid, for one reason or another. It may have had something to do with how chatty Naruto was; Tenzō didn’t have to keep a conversation going by himself now. “I could have made this with my jutsu,” he mused, and there was something boastful in his words, “but I suppose a bath would be—”

“Bath?!”

Naruto looked like he was going to cry more. Oh dear.

For a boy emaciated, Naruto had energy to spare. He ran around the room before disappearing the moment Tenzō guided him to the baths. Suddenly there was quiet. Kakashi wasn’t so sure he’d ever have that again.

With Tenzō and Naruto gone, he cast his eye towards the room’s only remaining occupant. Itachi was taking inventory of their supplies, making mental notes on what they would have to restock before setting back out onto the road. Soon, Itachi would head into the market to buy what they needed. Food, bandages. Disinfectant. They still had Naruto’s wounds to treat—and Kakashi’s arm. Those burns were nothing, though, when compared to the relief he felt knowing that they could finally return home. Kakashi was most in his element on missions, but after so long all he wanted was his apartment and his bed and a chance to catch up on some well-deserved reading.

“What do you think?” he finally asked in a long exhale that showed his exhaustion.

Itachi glanced his way and smiled before unsealing his scroll and looking at what they had left—mostly weapons. Food was scarce. “Naruto is my brother’s classmate,” he said. “He’s a good child. I don’t believe he will give us trouble.”

Kakashi cast a lazy eye across the room and thought up all the reasons why it was wrong that they were in it. “Ahh, I believe it’s too late for that.”

A soft noise escaped Itachi, sounding of fondness and amusement, before the smile was gone. “Naruto will not give us trouble. We need to watch for the fox, however.”

“Mm,” nodded Kakashi. “We need to make note of it in our report.”

Itachi rose, bowed his head slightly, and left with their funds strapped to his side. With that, Kakashi was alone. It was nice. Alone, with no one trying to talk to him, no sounds of rustling off in the distance to send him on alert. Alone in an inn, able to close his eye, tip back his head, and let his mind go blank.

The door slid open, jerking him awake, and he opened his eye to find a grinning blond. Naruto stumbled into the room with a towel around his waist and dove for his bag. Naruto—or, well, maybe the  _ fox _ —had acquired a small pack of supplies at one point or another. He had two pairs of clothes—one partially eroded by the nine-tails chakra—and a few shuriken and kunai. Some first-aid supplies, nothing special. No  _ food, _ which was probably the problem.

Tenzō appeared next, looking perfectly content and a lot better rested than he had in  _ weeks _ . He dropped down onto the floor, lied on his back and stared vacant-eyed at the ceiling.

Naruto joined him, laughing.

“Man,” the kid breathed, “you guys are the  _ best. _ When do we get ramen?”

Tenzō snorted, knocking the boy lightly in the head. “Patience. Itachi left to get our supplies. You don’t want to eat without him, do you?”

“Well,  _ no, _ but he shouldn’t have left. I’m  _ hungry.” _

“We  _ know, _ Naruto,” said Tenzō, but there was nothing but fondness in his voice.

Kakashi wasn’t entirely sure what his teammates saw in that boy. Maybe it was just that he didn’t like kids, so he was immune to Naruto’s charms. Maybe he was too bitter over the two months of his life that he would never get back. Maybe he was just getting old. He didn’t know, but he also didn’t care. And that was the important thing.

When the banter died out and Kakashi thought he could have another moment of peace he found that no, he was wrong, peace was not a thing that their jinchuuriki allowed, and soon he found himself locking gazes with Naruto as the boy crouched before him. He narrowed his eye.

Naruto looked down, unfazed, and his face scrunched up. “Did I do that?”

Kakashi followed the line of his eyes to the burns on his hand and forearm. The corrosive chakra left red, raw and peeling skin in its wake. He had to wonder why it didn’t seem to affect Naruto. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he assured with a dull tone.

But Naruto wasn’t worried. Naruto was smiling, soft and confident, raising a hand to the wound. Kakashi tried not to flinch—tried, failed, and he caught the moment-long flash of something wrong on Naruto’s face before it left. Then came the soothing green glow of medical ninjutsu. The ache in his burns subsided long before the skin itself started to mend. It was a slow and lengthy process. Naruto was patient. Quiet. So unlike the boy who had been whining and moaning since the moment they met.

Kakashi settled him under a curious gaze and when Naruto noticed, it only elicited a grin.

“A friend showed me,” was the vague answer to an unasked question. “I’m not very good.”

Kakashi relaxed against the wall, watching with faint amusement. “You’ll get there,” he muttered, unsure of why.

“Hey, hey, Hound?”

“Ah?”

“What’s your  _ real _ name?” asked Naruto. “I know Itachi’s ‘cause I know his brother, and Tenzō’s um…  _ Tenzō. _ But yours sounds toooootally fake.”

He twitched. What a brat. “Hound,” he answered simply, earning a groan. “We’re ANBU. You are our target. Right now, we’re on a mission. On this mission, my name is Hound.”

Naruto pouted. “Do I get a cool codename, too?”

“No.”

“Aw, that’s not fair!”

Kakashi did not like kids. Not in the slightest.

Naruto pulled away to get a good look at his work, nodding his approval. The burns were still very much there, but the biting sting faded, and that was nice. Kakashi wondered how a student came across medical ninjutsu, especially one so allegedly inept as that one, but questions like those could be saved for after their return to Konoha. He was sure the Hokage would be asking a  _ lot _ of questions.

Kakashi flexed his hand approvingly and then looked at the boy. “Uzumaki,” he called, “how much do you remember about the fox’s possession?”

Naruto instantly withered and averted his eyes, arms clenched by his sides. “...Nothin’ really,” he confessed in a mumble, dropping to sit cross-legged. He stared at his hands, lost in thought, something that felt so wrong on that face. “I remember you came to bring me home, an’ then…”

“Nothing?”

Naruto shook his head. “I remember eating, kinda. And falling in the river. There was a lot of… walking. All of the time. Walking and hunting. Raw meat is gross.”

He decidedly did not want to know the story behind that comment.

“And then…” He looked up, eyes cast heavenward as he thought. “And then taking a dead guy’s things. Because he was there, and I didn’t have nothin’ else. And I felt bad, but…”

Kakashi nodded. Tenzō was casting a  _ look _ over Naruto’s shoulder and he knew to leave it there.

“Oh, hey—” Naruto suddenly rounded on Tenzō with stars in his eyes, looking like he saw the coolest thing to ever exist. “What was that cool jutsu you used?!”

Tenzō raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that was—”

“Can you teach me?”

“Well, no, I can’t because—”

“C’mon, I’ll have it down in three days! Just watch me!”

“That’s not the—”

“Aw, don’t be like that!”

Kakashi covered his face with his hands and prayed for silence.

* * *

 

Dinner was… nice, somehow. Itachi returned, supplies slung over his shoulder—food, bandages, disinfectant—and a bag of ramen in hand. As promised. Naruto's eyes lit up with so much wonder and excitement and Kakashi was scared that he'd cry again. He did. It was awful.

They sat around the low-sitting table, each with a bowl of steaming ramen set before them. Tenzō and Naruto across from one another, Itachi next to Tenzō. Kakashi kept himself against the wall because it was most comfortable. Plus, well, he liked being able to observe everything at once. Were something to happen, it was his job as captain to ensure the safety of the target as well as his team. Maybe it was unlikely that something  _ would _ happen, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Ramen, huh? They should have given the kid something healthier to eat. He knew that. But, well. Kid wanted ramen. And after everything they went through, the kid deserved it.

Naruto peeled away the cover of his bowl and breathed in the steam. Then, suddenly, he was eating, and then it was gone, and there were pleads for more. And Itachi  _ bought _ more. It wasn't like he anticipated this and bought extra servings in advance; Itachi, the ANBU,  _ went back out for more ramen. _ And the kid ate. There were smiles and laughter and everything felt so  _ simple. _

When Kakashi closed his eyes, he was back in the forest with an exhausted team and hope stretched thin. He would take this ridiculous situation over that any day.

Naruto's pleads for a third bowl were met with scolding from their resident wood user and now mother hen. Tenzō had his arms crossed and face pulled into one of those stern parental looks he must have learned from observing civilians back home. “Naruto,” he chastised, “you haven't been eating well. Anyone with working eyes can see that.”

Naruto pulled a skeptical face, looking up from his empty bowl. “Yeah, so? More reason for ramen.”

“You'll make yourself sick if you keep eating like that,” he sighed, and the stern parental look was already losing its edge. “Wait a while. We can slip you some fruit before bed, how's that?”

Naruto rolled his eyes dramatically with a groan of ‘whatever’ and slouched back to rest his weight on his palms, casting a blue gaze across his escorts. Because, really, that's what they were now that the chase was over and done with. Escorts back to Konoha for their village’s one and only jinchuuriki.

Then that look was less annoyed and more analytical, and Kakashi was surprised that Naruto could wear a face like that. “Hey,” he called, his voice level as he settled them each beneath a look. “All of you know, huh? About Kurama.”

“Kurama?” Tenzō parroted.

“The nine-tails.”

Kurama. That thing had a name, huh? And Naruto knew it. Well, maybe they should have expected as much, with the fox taking control of its host over the past two months. Naruto likely found out what he was the hard way, with no one ever telling him. Kakashi wondered how it felt. He wondered, but he didn't want to know.

“Ah,” Kakashi nodded when his teammates were silent. He held no reserves about brutal honesty with children, especially when that child was their jinchuuriki. “Our mission is the retrieval of the nine-tails jinchuuriki. That information is necessary.”

Naruto nodded, his mouth pulled taut as he shifted to sit with his arms between his legs, looking much like a fox himself.

“Does that bother you?” Tenzō hedged, setting his own bowl aside.

He shook his head and smiled. “Nah. You looked like you knew what you were doing, so I had a hunch.” There was a yawn. He rubbed his eyes. “That wood jutsu stuff calms Kurama down, or somthin’ like that?”

“Well,  _ something _ like that,” Tenzō mused, reaching across the table to ruffled the kid's hair with very loud, very embarrassed protest. He was getting attached. Fantastic. “So you don't have to worry. I'll mend the seal if Kurama tries that again. You're stuck with us.”

Naruto’s eyes widened before he cast them to the ground with a solemn nod. He was terrified of being controlled like that again, Kakashi supposed.

The quiet that fell was mostly a comfortable one. Mostly, but not entirely, as the fact that Naruto was there and it was quiet at all was worrying in and of itself. They all finished their meals and Itachi rose, wordlessly grabbing all of their dishes to be disposed of. He paused over Naruto's, his eyes falling on the boy's bag that leaned against the corner of the room, by the window. With strange curiosity, Itachi wandered over to it and slipped his hand within the half-opened pouch.

Naruto looked up and scrabbled over. “Hey—”

It was too late; Itachi removed his hand and with it came a Leaf headband. The navy of the cloth was dark in spots, stains that any shinobi would recognize as blood. But Naruto would never have gotten a headband. He failed his graduation exam.

Why did he have that?

The three ANBU fixed the boy under a hard stare and Naruto pouted.

“Who’s is that?” Tenzō asked, leaning with his chin in his hand. He, out of all of them, seemed the least concerned.

Naruto shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe Kurama took it from the dead guy?”

Kakashi narrowed his eye, recalling the absent story Naruto gave them earlier. So the ‘dead guy’ was a Leaf shinobi, was he? And now there were other questions—questions about how that shinobi died, why the fox would take a hitai-ate. Was the fox the one who killed him?

Did Naruto kill him?

“Why?” Kakashi pressed urgently.

Naruto opened and closed his mouth. He sat back, legs crossed and hands on his knees, and met Kakashi’s stare. “I don’t know.”

And he had to leave it there. He had to, because Tenzō was giving him a  _ look _ and they knew well enough that Naruto’s memories of the fox’s control were scattered at best. When Naruto said that he didn’t know, they had no choice but to believe him.

“Sorry,” the kid muttered, ducking his head, looking all sorts of lost as he held a white-knuckled grip on his knees.

Itachi smiled and took a knee, offering up the hitai-ate to the young genin-to-be. “You’ll have one of your own soon,” he assured.

Naruto stared at the metal plate, at the engraving of the Leaf, as though it were the most precious of offerings. He took it cautiously in his hands, held it tightly, and swallowed. “Y—” He licked his lips. “Yeah?”

Tenzō’s face lit up. His arm dropped down to the surface of the table and he leaned forward. “After that display in the forest? You had a team of  _ ANBU _ sweating.” Well, that was the fox. No one brought that up, though. “And you know the multi shadow clone jutsu, correct?”

“Um—” Naruto nodded, his finger tracing the engraving absently as he watched the ANBU.

“That’s a  _ lot _ more impressive than the clones they teach you in the academy.”

“...You think?”

“Oh yeah,” Tenzō laughed, tapping absently on the table. “That’s A-rank ninjutsu. You’d be hard-pressed to find an academy instructor who can do what you do. You’ll be a genin in no-time.”

“Oh.” A short, disbelieving laugh escaped Naruto’s throat. He searched their eyes for sincerity and he found it, cracking a smile. Now he wasn’t slouching all down and broken-like. Now that energy was back, the energy that had him bouncing across the room with unrivalled excitement. “Well,  _ duh. _ I’m gonna be the world’s greatest ninja, y’know!”

And Tenzō laughed. Because Naruto didn’t hesitate, and Naruto believed it, and Tenzō did, too.

Kakashi just sighed, closed his eyes, and prayed to Obito for the night to end.

* * *

 

Halfway through the night, it was Tenzō’s turn to stand watch. Itachi took the first shift, and closer to dawn it would be Kakashi relieving Tenzō of the burden, but for now he sat with his back to the wall, the sleeping bodies of his comrades to his left, and waited out the night. He didn’t mind night watch; it was usually peaceful and while it came with its own risks, knowing that he was keeping his team safe was a comfort in itself.

Now there was another body to watch, though—that of Naruto Uzumaki. Tenzō openly admitted to being taken with the boy; he had a strange, easy charm to him that had the whole team gravitating towards him. Even Kakashi, even if Kakashi had not yet  _ realized _ it. Naruto was bright and full of life, especially considering the poor state of his health. With the way that he acted, no one would suspect that the kid was worse for wear if it wasn’t so obvious by how pale he was.

Tenzō may have related to the boy, just a bit. He remembered the isolation he felt early on in life and no, it was  _ not _ the same as being saddled with a tailed beast, but there was something there to latch onto—a similarity that Tenzō took to heart. That boy, a jinchuuriki from birth, had such big aspirations and the confidence to back them up. The world’s greatest ninja, eh? Tenzō wanted to see that.

He was so,  _ so _ thankful that this mission had a happy ending.

Partway through his shift, his attention drawn to the little wooden figurines he was making with his jutsu, Tenzō’s eyes cast up to see Naruto padding across the floor. He arched a brow, following with his eyes as the boy yawned and slid open the door, slipping out into the hall. He had to use the bathroom, Tenzō supposed.

But a few minutes passed without Naruto’s return, and Tenzō felt concerned.

He checked the bathroom first, frowning when he found it empty, the door unlocked. Tenzō knew better than to be worried, though; worry led to mistakes, and that boy was staying with them by choice.

He searched each floor of the inn one by one before slipping out the front, casting his observation around the street. It was dead quiet, the nighttime chill biting at his fingers from the lazy breeze setting in from the west. Lights were out. The village was asleep.

Tenzō cast a glance upward and his eyes found the prone body of a young boy seated on the roof tiles of the inn. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, tension leaving him in a warm rush, and he leapt up to meet the boy, landing deftly to Naruto’s right. Naruto didn’t look at him, just smiled, and that was enough.

Tenzō took a seat and watched the moon, breaking through the blue-purple velvets of the night air with pale light. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Naruto hummed, hugging his knees to his chest. “Just thinking.”

“What about?” asked Tenzō, glancing over at the boy.

He shrugged. “Where to go from here, I guess.”

Tenzō nodded. To the ANBU, those two months of heartache were just par for the course—a mission like any other. To Naruto, they were two months of lost control, fragmented memories, and unwarranted revelation. Naruto was a student with big dreams and bad grades, an orphan living a simple life. Then one day his teacher is dead, he has a monster inside of him, and he’s pulled away from the village that was the only home he ever knew. Tenzō didn’t know much about Naruto personally, but maybe he didn’t need to. “Well,” he started and sighed, lying back against the roof tiles to better look at the stars, “first, you return to Konoha with us. Next, you retake your graduation exam and show off those kick-ass shadow clones of yours.”

Naruto laughed.

“And then you carve out your future,” he smiled. “Whichever way you like.”

The laughter died out. From where they sat, Tenzō couldn’t see Naruto’s face. He didn’t need to.

“I don’t think jinchuuriki get to do that,” he muttered. “Make their own future, or whatever.”

No, they didn’t. Naruto would be a weapon of the Leaf no matter where life led him. That would remain the one true constant, whatever path he travelled. “Maybe they should.”

“Yeah,” Naruto snorted, “I think so, too.”

“You’re a good kid,” Tenzō said, nudging the boy with his leg. “You’ll figure it out.”

Quiet fell. That was fine. Tenzō knew when to leave silence be, and for awhile they sat out the night there. He could have returned to the room, sure. But Naruto would have to come with him. Naruto was his mission. And if Naruto needed a little bit of fresh air, so be it. Tenzō would oblige.

“Tenzō?”

He cast a lazy glance Naruto’s way, the boy’s body silhouetted by moonlight. “Hm?”

“You’re a gullible fool.”

Naruto turned back, red eyes bleeding out the night, and Tenzō felt himself grow cold.

Tenzō shot to his feet and leapt away, already forming hand signs but he was too late; Naruto vanished in a plume of smoke. A  _ shadow clone. _ That whole time, and he hadn’t even realized—

This wasn’t the time to mentally berate himself. Tenzō hopped off the roof and swung into the open window of their room— _ open,  _ and it hadn’t  _ been open— _ to land quietly on the floor. His mouth dropped as his eyes scanned the empty floor, bare save the two sleeping shinobi by the door. Their bags were gone.  _ Naruto’s bag was gone. _ Naruto himself was—

That whole time. The fox. Kurama.  _ He had been talking to Kurama all that time. _

“Hey,” he called,  _ loudly, _ jostling his teammates up. “Wake up. This is bad, Naruto is—”

Kakashi and Itachi were up in a heartbeat, their sharingan glowing red through the moonlight as they searched for signs of the boy. They were better trackers than he was—Kakashi especially.

Soon there were ninken fanning out across the village. The ANBU took to the streets and then to the forest. Sleep was a castaway dream as the small hours stretched to dawn, light breaking through the horizon.

They were tired, bitter, with no food, no tools. No jinchuuriki.

And Tenzō hated himself for failing the boy. And he would make up for it.

Because Naruto was not the fox. Naruto was all smiles and loved ramen and was going to be the world’s greatest ninja.

Tenzō would be there to see that dream become reality.

* * *

 

Naruto stared down at their bounty with starlight in his eyes and sunshine in his smile. There was enough food to feed him for  _ weeks _ and enough first-aid supplies to get him through even the nastiest of injuries. And the money. Oh the money. Naruto had never seen so much ryō all in one place. As it turned out, being an ANBU paid  _ well _ and ANBU budgets were  _ great _ and everything was  _ amazing. _ With all that, he’d be able to lodge in towns for a while—whenever he made it to another one, of course.

He didn’t feel bad about taking everything those guys had. Not one bit. No, because those men were going to take him back to the village, and he was  _ never _ going back.

He took in his rewards and laughed, long and hard.

“Lookit all this!”

From somewhere in his mind, Kurama snorted.  _ “This isn’t the time for rest, kit. Seal it all in your scroll and get moving. The scavengers will be on our trail soon.” _

Naruto rolled his eyes dramatically but listened anyway, unrolling his sealing scroll. Kurama showed him how to use it early on and now it was his favourite thing. He didn’t even  _ need _ his bag, not really; they kept it around because it would be even more suspicious if Naruto had survived out on his own for two months with no supplies. It’d be damn near impossible. With the ANBU believing that everything he had was in the bag, it made it easier to keep them from seeing his scroll. If they opened  _ that _ up, well.

With all of the instant ramen held inside, it’d be hard to convince them that ‘the fox’ was the brains of the whole thing. Apparently, tailed beasts weren’t big ramen fans. Kurama didn’t even need to  _ eat. _

“Still say I would’a been  _ fine _ taking Tenzō all by myself,” he muttered sourly as he stored away the last of the food. Kurama took control at the last moment and shunshined them as far as their chakra would allow. Naruto may not have had as much chakra control as the big red furball, but he knew the technique well enough now that he could have gotten away. Especially when all his enemies were asleep or otherwise preoccupied.

_ “Fool. This will lead to our advantage if they catch us.” _

“Like they could,” he grinned, rolling the scroll back up and slipping it onto the holder on his belt.

Naruto saw his point, though; the plan was to make their most  _ persistent _ pursuers believe that everything leading up to that point was a result of the nine-tailed fox’s control. That meant that once they ‘mended the seal’ they would let their guard down, which they did. And, with Kurama’s last-minute appearance at the end, they would assume it was the fox again.

In the unfortunate instance where Naruto was caught by them and it  _ wasn’t _ staged, it would give him an edge—them believing that he was on their side. He understood that. He understood but still a part of him wanted to be upfront, wanted to scream from the rooftops  _ ‘I’m not going back.’ _

Kurama said that part of him was stupid and needed to be smothered by a pillow.

“Hey, hey, Kurama,” he called, removing the Leaf headband from his bag and discarding the rest. He didn’t need it anymore. “You think I could be a mercenary?”

And Kurama  _ laughed, _ the jerk.  _ “You? You’re still green, kit. No one would hire you.” _

“They would,” he countered, but he was already rolling around other ideas in his head. He didn’t want to be a thief his whole life, and he  _ highly _ doubted that the ANBU would fall for that a second time. The longer he thought, the more his head hurt. He scrunched up his face and folded his arms behind his head as he leaned back against a tree. “If I was part of the village, money wouldn’t be a problem. Even genin get rewarded for missions…”

_ “Do you regret leaving?” _

Naruto laughed. “Nope! You’re stuck with me now, Furball.”

_ “You were enjoying your time with those three.” _

Well. He was. A bit. Just a teensy,  _ tiny _ bit. That sobered him up. His laughter fell away and he reached down to trace the symbol of the Leaf on the hitai-ate. In all his years, that was the first time he felt like he belonged somewhere. Like he was wanted.  _ Welcomed. _

But he remembered Hound flinching away when he went to tend to the man’s burns. He remembered the hard looks hidden beneath the banter and the smiles.

“Yeah, maybe,” he conceded, slipping his hand into his back pouch. “But they look at me the same way everyōne else does. I’m  _ tired of it _ .”

The edge of his kunai tapped against the metal plate with a soft  _ clink _ and he hesitated. It wasn’t even his, that hitai-ate. It was stolen, a relic from a long-gone shinobi, and he took it for himself. It wasn’t his, and he wasn’t even a Konoha-nin. He never made it to genin or chunin and certainly not jōnin. Never Hokage. He was as much an outsider to the world of ninja as any other civilian.

Except that he wasn’t. He had the fox. He had the fox and that made him  _ something.  _ Even if he wasn’t sure what that something was. And he knew, for all that it symbolized, the weight that it carried, that this was something he could never take back. And that was okay.

Naruto knew who he was. He was not his father’s legacy. He was not the Hokage’s pawn or the village’s weapon.

The kunai bit into the metal with a hissing screech and he forced it across the symbol of Konoha, forever a reminder of his resolve and a warning to everyōne he met that  _ he belonged to no one. _

He was an Uzumaki, his mother’s son. Kurama’s friend.

And he would carve out his own path.


	4. Chapter 4

The cloud cover beyond the windows set the Hokage office in a miserable grey, reflecting the somber moods of the ANBU team kneeling before Lord Third, heads down in reflection of their failure. They were dirty and tired, their uniforms ripped and weathered, their bodies aching and their stomachs empty.

The jinchuuriki made off with everything they had and they had no choice but to report back to Konoha, to update the Hokage personally on everything they learned about the runaway.

Now Lord Third sat in his chair, his pen forgotten on the desk, fingers interlocked as he cast a mournful glance over each of the ANBU. He released a breath, burdened and weighted with age, and cast his eyes to the sky.

“Naruto has fallen victim to a fault in the seal, then?”

“It appears so, Lord Hokage,” Kakashi answered, level and calm behind his mask.

They were told to stand and they did. Tenzō stepped forward, holding within him more conviction than his teammates. “I was able to pacify the fox with my Wood Release upon initial contact. However, Naruto's control was lost again in the night and he fled.”

“I see.”

“Naruto was cooperating, Lord Hokage,” Tenzō assured. They could all see how tired the Third looked, how burdened the news left him, and how he so desperately wanted for the jinchuuriki child to return. It was surreal, seeing firsthand just how much that boy meant to the head of their village. “He fully intended on returning with us to Konoha, I'm certain of that.”

The Hokage closed his eyes, a tired smile in the lines of his face. “Thank you for your report. For now, rest up. I will discuss this matter with the advisors and have your new orders by morning. You are dismissed.”

Wordlessly, they complied. Hokage Tower was left in their wake and they made their first return to ANBU Headquarters to finally peel away their worn and faded uniforms. The masks came off first, then the armour, until finally they were pulling on civilian clothing.

Two months ago, they set out with enough provisions for a three week mission to retrieve the missing jinchuuriki of the nine-tails. Nine weeks later and not only had they not retrieved their target but, to top it off, they also learned the grim truth that the fox was taking over the Uzumaki's body with frightening control. The biggest concern there was whether the seal had been broken or just loosened, or if it perhaps contained an oversight that allowed such things to slip through. But Minato was nothing if not meticulous about his seals. That man would not have used it without absolute certainty that it would hold.

So, where did that leave them?

Tenzō closed his locker and sat still on the benches for a while. He'd taken the whole thing the hardest. Kakashi understood, but was surprised to find his teammate so fixated on the matter. It wasn’t like Tenzō.

“I hope we're chosen for the next phase,” he murmured.

“I don't doubt that we will be,” Itachi supplied as he gathered his hair and tied it back. “In all of ANBU, we have the best chance at completing this mission. If this is the fox at work, your Wood Release will be vital in securing Naruto safely.”

Personally, Kakashi couldn't care one way or another. A mission was a mission. If he had to head back out for another two months of camping, so be it. But he would have been equally fine with washing his hands of the matter entirely. Those two, though? Well. Tenzō he may have understood, but it was surreal to find even Itachi taking it to heart.

Tenzō took relief in that assurance, smiling. “Right. I'll keep a closer watch on him next time. There might be a tell that signals when the fox takes control.”

“Or,” Kakashi mused, feeling eyes on him, “he's fooling the both of you.”

They gave him a look, hard and unamused. He smiled.

“Just thinking out loud.”

* * *

 

“Menma?”

Naruto made a face, pulling up the hood of his cloak as the hiss of rain drowned out the world around him. It was loud against his ears and clouded his thoughts. The wind picked up and he searched through the fogs of mist for better shelter than the sparse trees overhead, grimacing when he found the forest stretching far across the plains ahead. Oh, look, more trees.

He was so sick and  _ tired _ of  _ trees. _

In an effort to distract himself, Naruto snorted and ducked through the brush. He wished he’d spent another night in town; the inn he stayed at last night was cozy and cheap, and it was  _ right next to a ramen bar. _ It was no Ichiraku, but come on. Ramen. Right there, just a two minute walk away, day or night. He could have lived there and been perfectly content, were it not for the knowledge that if he stopped moving, it would only be a matter of time before ANBU would drag him out of whatever hiding place kicking and screaming.

“What kinda name is Menma?”

_ “The same kind as Naruto, evidently.” _

Fair point. Okay. Naruto could live with that. “That’s what Mom wanted to call me?”

_ “Before your father picked Naruto out of his sensei’s book,” _ Kurama supplied.

The effect was instant and Naruto felt a sudden dislike for his name, knowing that it was a gift from his father more than his mother. He held a lot of  _ feelings _ for dear old Dad, none of them good and most of them bitter.

Naruto found himself doing whatever he thought his father would disapprove of. Running away with Kurama and becoming a missing-nin (though Kurama reminded him that he couldn’t be a missing-nin if he was never a  _ nin _ in the first place) was likely one of those things, seeing as everything that Minato Namikaze did was ‘for the village.’ He made Naruto into a living weapon ‘for the village.’ He lived ‘for the village.’ He died ‘for the village.’ He took away any chance for Naruto to have a normal, happy life because Naruto was a sacrifice for the wellbeing of that Sage-damned  _ village. _

So, Naruto had a lot of feelings. None good.

It was easy to push away from a village that never accepted him. It was easy to leave when the one person who he connected with was dead. He had no problem stealing from ANBU sent to retrieve him, ANBU that looked at him like a bomb ready to go off. And though life was much harder now that he was making a living for himself without the funding and protection of the Hokage, he was managing by the skin of his teeth. All of those things were easy, but his name was  _ his. _ It was something that he always had from the moment of his birth, a name given to him by his parents, an identity that stuck with him for good or bad.

He was Naruto Uzumaki.

But Naruto was his father’s choice, Kurama said. Menma was his mother’s.

But he wasn’t about to stop being Naruto Uzumaki just because he took issue with his father.

The rain fell heavier, beating against his over-sensitive hearing like a drum. His clothes were sopping wet, slick against his skin in an obvious and unpleasant show of just how bad things were getting. The weather took a turn from light showers to rolling thunderstorms in less than twenty minutes and now Naruto was all sorts of miserable and wanted to be anywhere  _ but there. _ He should have stayed in town. He was en route to a small village along the edges of Fire Country, but with the rain and misery surrounding him there was no telling how—

_ “Switch with me.” _

Naruto narrowed his eyes, but before he could protest, he found himself pushed back, deep beneath the surface, observing through his own eyes but not really  _ there. _

Naruto was gone. Kurama was there, and Kurama was  _ not happy. _ He leapt into the air and dove into the bushes just in time to avoid the shower of shuriken through the mist. Then there was running— _ so much _ running, and Kurama was angry and Naruto was confused and everything was grey and miserable and all either of them wanted was a roof and a bed.

With a quick hand sign, Kurama left a shadow clone behind and used it as a distraction to get as far away from their attackers as possible. Then, once distance was made, he sent another clone off in another direction to mark their scent, create confusion. It was their default reaction, one with a high success rate.

But Kurama wasn’t one to run from a fight where avoidable. Usually, it was Naruto doing the running—because Kurama rather risk the blow to their pride than the capture of his still-training jinchuuriki. If he was running, it could only mean one thing.

Those three were back, huh? Their three weeks of peace were finally up.

* * *

 

Kurama grinned, his back pressed flush against the rocky mountainside, eyes darting through the shadows of the mist. He was a clone, there to ward away three monsters before they could pose a problem for his little jinchuuriki. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see through him the moment that he let down his guard, that they would recognize him for the distraction that he was, but it wouldn’t matter so long as he bought his real self time to put some distance between them.

The last thing he needed was to get caught by that cursed wood user. If ever there came a day where the kid allowed him to kill, that man would be the first one on the business end of his claws. Every time he looked into those dead eyes, all he saw was that damned tree-nymph Hashirama all over again.

Kurama was not bitter. Kurama just knew when to hold grudges, which was always.

Through the blanketed mists, his sharp eyes could make out the faint outlines of silhouettes. The ANBU were there, making their move, no longer relegated to the safety of shadows. He didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned; no doubt they were tired of the chase.

The dull-grey mists parted beneath the red glow of the sharingan and Kurama took practiced effort to not make eye contact, not that a genjutsu would hold him for long, or that the Uchiha’s control was anything to worry about for a clone. Being dispelled might be annoying, though.

Wooden stocks split the ground at his feet and he took to the air, falling through the winds and rain as they stretched up after him. He deftly avoided their restraint and from so high up, he could make out Tenzō’s form. Kurama vowed to make that man his personal scratching post when the day came.

The moment he landed, kunai shot forth, embedding themselves in the rock behind him. His head snapped to them, eyes catching on the paper tags still catching the wind—

Explosions lit up the mists in brilliant orange and white and plumes of smoke billowed up from the mountainside and Kurama was  _ fine. _ No clone of his would dispel from as weak a blast as  _ that. _ (He may have shunshined out of the way with a very angry snarl just before they went off.)

Now he was hiding. Kurama did not  _ like _ hiding. He was a tailed beast, the physical embodiment of the world’s hatred and  _ proud, _ and in his true form,  _ he did not hide. _

But this was for Naruto, and damn it all, if he hadn’t gotten so fond of the boy, he’d have never been in this mess to start.

Kurama closed his eyes and listened. Naruto had his senses, sure, but Naruto had no real clue how to control them. They would cover that in their lessons at some point. For now, he closed his eyes, spreading his sense throughout the forest, blocking out the muddy hiss of rain and storm.

Nothing.

Damn the ANBU and damn their hand signals.

With a muted snarl, Kurama slipped a hand into his pouch and pulled out a kunai. They had better weapons, sure. But Kurama never used weapons. He never needed to; he had claws and more chakra than any of those  _ peons _ that deluded themselves into thinking they stood a fighting chance against him.

There it was—a rustle in the leaves, so slight and so silent that to the ANBU themselves, it would go unheard. To his right. They knew where he was. He knew where they were. Now it was a battle of patience, to see who would make the first move. If they used that bloody wood release again so help them—

The rain pooled together through the fog, twisted and hissed and towered over him in a giant serpentine body. He gaped, eyes wide, and damn it all Minato’s student could use water style.

“Mother _ fuck—” _

A wave crashed over him like a force of nature and he vanished in a drowned-out smoke.

* * *

 

The second shadow clone was well into the mountains bordering Fire and Wind when the ground shook beneath his feet. Against his better judgement, he looked back, seeing the literal sea of trees left in the wake of that damned scarecrow’s water dragon. Water style in rain like that was a death sentence, especially when the seal was holding him back from properly using his own power.  _ Naruto, _ the damned fool, had better access to his chakra than Kurama did at the moment. Naruto had access, but little skill. For all that Kurama was training the boy, it was a task and a half mentoring from within his student’s body. Naruto didn’t make it easy, either; he needed things explained to him thrice over before anything  _ stuck. _

Out of the trio of monsters hunting them down, he expected Kakashi to be the least troublesome. He remembered the boy from the time of Kushina as his jinchuuriki; Kakashi was Minato’s student, his right-hand man, a quiet and cold-blooded ANBU of the Leaf. That boy was a prodigy, sure. But he wasn’t a user of wood release. His sharingan was not his own. The two things that Kurama feared most in the world were not much of a threat in that man, because, for all that one eye was of Uchiha blood, it was nowhere near as dangerous as the real Uchiha in their group. Kurama hadn’t thought much of him.

He’d forgotten the Copy-Nin epithet that haunted the hidden villages, the reminder of the vast arsenal of ninjutsu under Kakashi’s belt granted to him by that very same cursed eye that plagued the last twelve years of Kurama’s cursed existence.

Kurama growled low in his throat and made a hand seal. Two more clones poofed into existence before him and they all exchanged glances.

“Scatter,” he bit out, looking every bit as feral as he felt. “Let’s separate them.”

The clones nodded and then they were gone, and he hoped for all their sakes that the real Kurama was making some damn-good distance with his shunshin. The biggest concern was how dispersed their chakra was.

He wished he could call upon his masked beasts. The seal would never allow him enough chakra to do that, though.

Kurama looked down at his hands, so small and insignificant and  _ human _ with their dull claws and feeble strength. A human child, of all things. Oh, how he cursed his fate. How simple a task this would have been if he were the towering physical manifestation of chakra that he once was. With one mighty swipe of his tail, Kurama would level mountains and forests and break every bone in their bodies. But Kurama was not a forty-foot tall fox right now. He was a twelve-year-old human. His yin and yang halves were separated. And he would just have to cope.

He sensed the flicker of negative emotions before he did the trail of suppressed chakra rising up the mountain and he stood there, waiting with narrowed eyes as the masked ANBU arrived in a swirl of rain and wind and autumn leaves.

Kakashi. Hound. He drew the short straw.

Well, at least it wasn’t the wood nymph.

Actually, every straw was the short straw.

Kurama rolled his shoulders and flexed his non-existent claws, Kakashi’s eye boring dully into his own, and he grinned. “Finally caught up, I see.” He hated how young his voice sounded. Even injecting confidence into his tone was not enough to make him sound intimidating. Damn Naruto’s age and damn his non-threatening appearance.

Kakashi’s hand came up and he hated himself for flinching. The ANBU mask came off, revealing behind it an uncovered sharingan eye—

Shit.

Kakashi smiled behind the cloth covering half of his face in the most patronizingly  _ aggravating  _ way and  _ damn it all to the Sage _ Kurama had met his gaze.

He couldn’t move. When he tried to dispel himself and return to his original, nothing happened. He couldn’t.

Genjutsu. And he couldn’t dispel it. What a frightening thing for that filthy mutt to have picked up.

“You seem upset,” Kakashi stated easily, approaching with leisure. “Maa, I just want to talk.”

Just talk, huh? He already knew that Kurama was a clone. Talking was about all a clone was good for, not that he’d get any information that way.

The ANBU shoved a hand into his pocket, stopping directly before Kurama, looking down on him with empty eyes. “I can see that you’re not Naruto,” he observed. “You’ve taken full control.”

“And what if I have?” He found his voice. So he could still talk, then, still give information.

“Maa, I don’t want to waste much time on copies. I’ll assume the ones my teammates are after are shadow clones as well,” Kakashi stated simply, shifting his weight, looking so utterly  _ calm _ that Kurama just wanted to tear out his throat. “Naruto Uzumaki is cooperating with you, isn’t he?”

Kurama narrowed his eyes.

Kakashi smiled again and it was the most achingly bitter thing Kurama had seen in all of Naruto’s twelve years. “I thought as much. What happened at the inn was too convenient to have been staged without Naruto’s assistance.”

Kurama bared his teeth in a snarl and tried dispelling again. He felt his chakra flicker and die out and cursed.

The ANBU tilted his head and his eyes went up to the hitai-ate brandished clearly on Kurama’s forehead, narrowing slightly. But he didn’t look surprised, just resigned.

“The jinchuuriki is a missing-nin,” he said. “This poses a problem.”

They knew. Or at the very least,  _ this one _ knew. That meant that they couldn’t risk being caught under any circumstances.

Naruto was no longer safe if something went wrong.

“The boy has nothing to do with this,” Kurama stated, his voice evenly masking his rage. Maybe it was a foolish attempt, but it was worth a shot. “Believe what you want, Copy-Nin. It doesn’t matter. You won’t catch me.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Kurama snorted. “You’re a thousand years too early to be challenging me, kit.”

A stray kunai shot out from the rocks above and stuck in his chest. He looked up, grinning, finding one of the other shadow clones staring down at him with a blank stare, and disappeared into smoke.

* * *

 

Kurama was very much too old for this shit.

‘Naruto’ was a name that would soon be presenting them issues. At the inn, he signed in under the name ‘Menma’ and now Naruto was bitter and sulking, taking his control back in the safety of the room they’d paid for, sitting on all fours atop the bed and glaring hard into the mirror.

_ “We’re using that name for now, kit,” _ Kurama stated, leaving no room for argument.  _ “They’ll find us here soon enough.” _

Naruto’s glare wavered. He wanted to show Kurama how unamused he was at the blatant disregard for his real name, but at the end of the day, he knew why Kurama did it. To protect him. No doubt the ANBU team would be looking for him in the nearest village. No doubt they’d be asking around at the inns for a boy fitting his description, going by the name Naruto Uzumaki. And they would find him. Then they’d take him back to the Leaf. Or something.

“Then let’s just keep moving,” he grumbled, even though that was very much  _ not the thing that he wanted to do. _ The rain hadn’t let up yet, the downpour completely destroying their visibility, and they’d be as good as dead fighting like that. He’d just finally gotten out of his sopping wet clothes and into warm and comfortable ones, burrowing beneath a blanket to fight off the chill of the oncoming winter. He finally just dried his hair and ate dinner and damn it, he wanted sleep. Between all of the clones, all of the genjutsu dispels and shunshin he’d had to do over the past six hours, he was feeling his exhaustion.

_ “You need to rest,” _ Kurama said. There was significantly less bite to his voice than usual, as though he were calm, or… tired. Could tailed beasts get tired?  _ “You’ll be no good to us tired.” _

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, hugging one of the pillows to his chest. It smelled like cheap soap and perfume and he wrinkled his nose, tossing it aside. The scent was giving him a headache. “You think they’ll find us?”

_ “Hound might.” _

Naruto swallowed. “Yeah? Him? Isn’t it Tenzō we gotta worry about?”

Kurama snorted.  _ “I overlooked his skills because the other two are my weaknesses. But he is by far the best tracker Konoha has. I remember him from Kushina’s time.” _

“Right. He knew Mom.” Naruto breathed, fisting the blankets nestled around him with a shaky strength. “He knew both of them. Mom and Dad. So… why?”

_ “Why what, kit?” _

“Why don’t I know him at all?”

Kurama didn’t answer—didn’t need to. Naruto knew why.  _ Kurama _ was why. Dad sealing the tailed beast inside of him was why. As he sat there, he wondered just how many people from his parents’ lives disregarded him the moment that they died.

Kurama told him stories of Hound before, not long after they made off with all of the ANBU’s things; he said that Hound had been around Kushina a lot during pregnancy as a guard, that he was an important shinobi to the Fourth Hokage. He had skills and respect, but he was also more than that.

Naruto let out a loud, exasperated groan and threw himself back on the mattress, his arms and legs flailing his frustrations. “Damn it all! This whole thing is pissin’ me off!” He hissed and glared at the ceiling. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

_ “You’re a jinchuuriki. Konoha’s only one. The village won’t let you go.” _

“Shut up. I know that already…”

_ “Then don’t ask stupid questions, brat.” _

Naruto rolled his eyes. He had  _ words _ for that but held his tongue. “What should we do, then? They’re gonna catch our clones eventually. They’ve caught, what, four now? Shit. Five.”

_ “They’re close.” _

“I  _ know _ that, Furball. Lemme think.”

_ “Don’t think; it’s painful to watch.” _

Naruto narrowed his eyes and frowned. “You’re a real pain, y’know?”

_ “We leave Fire Country.” _

The annoyance fell away and he blinked. “Huh?”

_ “We’re close enough to Wind to cross the border,” _ Kurama explained, and it was true. Even if Naruto wasn’t liking where this was headed. Fire Country was the last thing he held onto after leaving Konoha.  _ “From there, we can make a more long-term plan of travel. At the very least, they will be out of their element.” _

Naruto bit his lip. “Yeah, but…”

_ “Naruto.” _

“I know, I know.”

It would have happened sooner or later, he knew. He just wished ‘later’ was  _ ‘much later’ _ and that they could continue aimlessly travelling Fire for just a little longer. It felt like it was the last piece of his history left to cling to, the last remnants of the life that he used to live. And he didn’t know the first thing about Wind.

But Kurama would be there with him. He wouldn’t be going in alone.

Another shadow clone dispelled and new memories flooded his head. He could see Tenzō’s face clear as day in his mind, looking every bit determined as wooden pillars pierced the clone, and Naruto sighed. Tenzō’s frustration felt so much more sincere than Hound’s. He was starting to hate that man.

Wind Country, huh?

Naruto twisted around to look into the mirror again, his own face staring back. “Kurama?”

_ “What is it, kit?” _

He shook away his insecurities and grinned. “I wanna train more. Teach me some super cool super awesome jutsu, ‘kay? I’m gonna beat all their asses.”

Kurama laughed, and he relished it.

_ “You’ll do more than that, brat. You’ll take on the world.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a few people were waiting for this... Just a heads up that there will be a delay in getting the next chapter up! Thank you for all of the kind words <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do your best, Tenzo!

In the grand scheme of things, ANBU uniforms were useless and conspicuous and tired.

Tenzō rose up from his sleeping bag and yawned, his teammates already packing up and halfway to heading out. Now he was joining them, his eyes on the sands of Wind Country on the horizon, forests and grassy plains drying up into cracked earth and then, beyond, a host of stretching desert that he was very much not looking forward to wading through.

In place of ANBU uniforms, the group sported standard jōnin attire, their masks buried and forgotten within their sealing scrolls. Leaving Fire Country for what was very likely a long-term mission dressed as ANBU was probably the worst thing that they could have done. They were allied with Suna, sure. And that was exactly why they didn't need to be trekking through Suna deserts in black ops gear. Could they have kept hidden so that no one would see? Sure. But the mission didn’t call for that.

As far as anyone was concerned, they were nothing but a team of jōnin on a B rank retrieval mission in search of a runaway. No one had to know that they were ANBU or that the runaway was Konoha's one and only jinchuuriki.

Tenzō sealed away his things and stretched his arms to the sky, forcing back his dreary thoughts of their nonstop struggles and trying to start the day off on a positive note. On the bright side, they'd traced the fox's movements well enough to predict that he would head into Wind next and were on their way there now. With any luck, they would run into something  _ other _ than a shadow clone at some point. That would be refreshing. The moment that they did, this whole thing could very well be over; he doubted there was much the fox could do against the three of them, so long as it was true the seal wasn't actually broken. Kakashi was adamant that it wasn't.

Kakashi was adamant about a lot of things. Like, for instance, that Naruto had more control than they were giving him credit for. Tenzō wasn't sure how he felt about that one in particular.

He wandered over to his teammates, smoothed out his flack jacket, and smiled. After so many pointless endeavours, all he could do was smile. If he didn't smile, he'd be sulking. Who would have thought that the most annoying mission he would ever be assigned would be to hunt down a twelve year old and a fox?

“What's the plan?”

Kakashi looked up but Itachi’s attention remained fixed to the map they had sprawled out across the table Tenzō created the night before. It depicted all of the great nations, and Itachi had a pale finger over their current location, right beyond the borders of Wind and Fire, on Rivers.

“There is a village just south of the border,” Itachi stated simply. His finger slid left, further beyond River Country where they were now and into Wind. It didn’t look far, perhaps a short half day’s walk. Two days if there were any noteworthy setbacks—like running into yet another barrage of shadow clones, for example. It was exhausting to Tenzō just  _ looking _ at the two dozen they chased off just the other night. Tailed beast or no, how could it be that Kurama had yet to show any signs of chakra exhaustion? “Naruto will have no choice but to take refuge there if he is reaching the end of his supplies.”

“And if he isn’t?” Tenzō asked.

The implications of what that would mean hung heavy in the air. None of them wanted to think about it. Truth be told, they’d seen less and less of their target as the weeks went on. Naruto was slipping away.  _ Kurama _ was escaping. They couldn’t afford to lose the target now because, if they did, there was a very real possibility of not being able to track him down again. With so many clones moving in all directions  _ all of the time, _ Kakashi’s dogs had long since been deemed ineffective; the tricky thing with shadow clones was that they left a trail that scented  _ exactly _ like the original. Their main method of tracking in recent days was through Itachi’s crows and Kakashi’s uncanny ability to plot out a likely trail the real Kurama was taking  _ using _ the tracks left by said clones.

Tenzō would never get over how Kakashi was able to do that—to see the lines left behind by all of the decoys and weave them together to form an unseen path marked by the real one, carefully avoided by all of the other clones enough to keep pursuers from getting too close, but not so avoided that it made it obvious which direction Kurama took. It was absurd, but it worked. Effectively. The biggest drawback was that Kurama was producing less clones and by that point was no longer actively trying to engage them. The clones were long-suffering, just marking fake trails, which made it harder to pinpoint which tracks were real and which were fake.

Kakashi shoved a hand into his pocket and leaned over them, casting a long shadow across the map as a dark eye bore holes into a fixed point on the landscape. “Maa, he’ll have no choice,” he said, lazy and drawn and filled with a disinterest Tenzō came to know well, one that didn’t sink far below the surface. Kakashi was just as set on seeing this mission through as the rest of them; he just showed it differently. “Wind Country is an unforgiving climate. It’s nothing like the forests of Fire that are filled with food if you’re willing to put in a little effort. Water is scarce, much unlike Rivers where the Uzumaki boy has been spending the past few days.”

Itachi nodded. “This is the only oasis between here and Suna. If the fox intends to keep moving, he’ll need to make that stop.”

Tenzō hummed and nodded, drumming his fingers against the wood of the table. Then his eyes narrowed on the symbol of the hidden village in question, tracing its hourglass shape thoughtfully. “You’re sure he’ll aim for Suna?”

Kakashi tilted his head, lingered over the map a few seconds more, and wrenched himself away to tuck his sealing scroll into his pouch. “Maa, who knows?” There was an inflection there, though, razor-sharp and hedged with confidence, that spoke otherwise. “He may just be putting distance between us. Foreign lands are safer because we have our ally nation’s regulations to fall by.”

“But there’s nothing of interest to a tailed beast outside of Suna,” Tenzō finished for him, sighing as he straightened his back and slipped his happuri into place. “Alright, I’ll buy that. Lead the way, Captain.”

Kakashi gave him a look that spoke volumes and Itachi smiled, easy and amused, and they were back on the road.

“And Captain?”

Kakashi shot him that same look again, over his shoulder, clearly unamused by Tenzō’s tone. “Ah?”

“Try not to pull that face with Naruto,” he teased. “You’ll scare the poor boy away.”

* * *

 

Kurama never thought that he would be so happy to be out of the hell-bound land of Rivers. Rivers, for all that it was a brief stop in their very long, seemingly endless and quite possibly  _ pointless _ endeavours, was the most agonizing six days of his jinchuuriki’s nearly thirteen years.

Rivers lived up to it name and then some; it was a land of water and rain and  _ bounty. _ Even if Naruto hadn’t gotten the hang of fishing and hunting—which, thank the Sage, the boy  _ had _ —there would have been no issue finding food to get them through the journey. Fruits, berries, herbs—there was no shortage of anything in those lands. No shortage of  _ anything. _

Not even water.

And curse those ANBU and whatever hole they crawled out of because they  _ all _ had a grasp on water release and they used it  _ generously. _ How thoughtful. If Kurama had to relive the demise of one more waterlogged clone, he would break the damn seal himself and tear out of Naruto’s body the hard way to drown them each in the nearest riverbed. Let the current carry them away and with them, all of his problems.

Even if it hadn’t rained—which it  _ had, _ especially as they took a route close to Ame—there was no shortage on big,  _ annoying _ bodies of water pooling around them for the ANBU to draw from. Now every time they went to fill their canteen, Naruto would have war flashbacks, the poor kid.

The ANBU caught up with him twice. They were right there, right in front of Naruto—once across the riverbed, and once below in the trees. Kurama managed to get them out of there by the skin of his teeth but damn it, if he hadn’t felt scared.

It was surreal. Feeling scared. It was such a human, such a  _ mortal _ thing. Not for himself, not for his safety, but for his human container. And what would it matter if Naruto died, or if he was ripped from the boy’s tiny body? If he died, he would rebirth. If he was placed in another human body, then it would just be a repeat of something he’d already lived through three times now. It wouldn’t matter.

It did.

He didn’t know why, but it did.

_ “Seal your hitai-ate,” _ he commanded, sounding far too much like a stern sensei for his liking—though he’d been relegated to  _ that _ duty months ago, so perhaps it was appropriate.  _ “This country allies itself with the Leaf, and with Fire.” _

Naruto pulled a face, one that promised many complaints and a healthy spoonful of  _ make me, _ but listened all the same. For all that he was a contrary brat, he was disciplined in his own right. And maybe that fact just made him even more contrary. He reluctantly untied the headband that he wore, gave the defaced symbol of the Leaf one last, forlorn look, and sealed it into his scroll.

Then there was a groan, load and complaining and so very  _ Naruto _ as the brat threw his hands behind his head and kicked the sands at his feet in what had to be the most childish display of  _ this place sucks _ possible. “It’s hot,” he whined, and that was an understatement. It was  _ very _ hot. “Can’t we just find, like, a tree or somethin’? I need some shade.”

_ “Do you see any trees around, kit?” _

Naruto narrowed his eyes on the long-standing, flowing sand dunes that made up the entirety of his vision, and huffed. “I’m sure there’s gotta be  _ one. _ Somewhere.”

Kurama laughed because of course his jinchuuriki would never concede to his logic. Not even Kushina could rival that boy for sheer  _ stubbornness. _

“Then a break?” Naruto pleaded. “At  _ least?” _

_ “No.” _

“But Kurama—”

_ “I know you’re tired,” _ he cut in. He could feel the aches and pains as though they were his own, could sense their depleted chakra reserves and  _ damn _ the Fourth Hokage and  _ curse _ the miserable seal that cut him off from the vast majority of his chakra.  _ “Night will bring with it a terrible cold, kit. We aren’t equipped to deal with that right now. Our only option is to try to reach the village oasis before sundown. Get a move on.” _

Naruto rolled his eyes dramatically, as though he were so utterly put out by Kurama’s explanation, but his feet started moving. “Let’s just shunshin there,” he grumbled.

_ “You’re fooling no one. You don’t have the chakra for that right now.” _

“If I dispel the clones—”

_ “We need them to cover our trail.” _

“But they always find us anyway!” Naruto whined, throwing his hands up to show how  _ done _ with the ANBU he was. Kurama could relate. Painfully so. “They just keep coming back. Like roaches.”

Oh. Well. Kurama never heard a more fitting word. His amusement rang through his voice but he tried to push it back, to take an authoritative tone with his young protege, even if it came off sounding like he was suppressing a laugh. Which he was, but Naruto didn’t need to know that.  _ “It slows them down, if nothing else. And it allows us to keep track of their movements.” _

“Yeah, yeah,” said Naruto, to a story he heard a thousand times over.

When going down the list of nations, Wind was far from ideal to hide out in. Kurama only chose it because of how close it was, but from what he could recall, Suna was allied with Konoha which did not bode well for them. The flat, expansive plains of the desert were the worst possible thing for a man on the run. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. What’s more, the harsh climate made it difficult to navigate for the inexperienced. Naruto very much fell under that category. But, well, it was at least out of Konoha’s territory, and it was progress.

Something told him that there would be another close encounter here, though. There was no reason to think they were safe.

The oasis was like a mirage amidst the expansive, blinding sands on Wing Country, and for a moment they thought it really was an illusion. It turned out it wasn’t; they were both fairly certain that even their fevered brains wouldn’t subject them to the looks that Naruto was getting, dressed in attire  _ very much not suited to the desert.  _ The cloak was heavy enough to stand against non-threatening rains, meaning it was too much for the heat of the desert, but too light to prove all that effective in the below-zero nights they’d be subjected to on the next leg of the journey.

Supplies came first—new clothes, specifically. A set that allowed them to blend in, to look like they belonged—and damn the Sage, it took  _ everything _ Kurama had to talk Naruto out of getting the flamboyant orange and blue robes that first caught his attention. Nothing about Naruto was ever discreet.

Then came the inn. The village was small and only had one; he hoped the monster trio didn’t catch up to them because he did not want to have to place chakra suppressors on the poor kid’s body to wait out the night knowing that the ANBU were staying in another room. If it came to it, Kurama would just have to keep them preoccupied with clones long enough to slow them down.

Sage,  _ why _ did they have to pose as regular jōnin? Why couldn’t they stay acting as ANBU? As ANBU, they wouldn’t ever risk staying at an inn. Somehow, by some blind roll of fate, holding a lower rank made them more troublesome than ever before.

Naruto signed in at the front desk, scrawled the name  _ Menma _ into the sign-in sheet like it was second nature, and climbed the stairs to his room on the second floor.

_ “Henge, kit.” _

Naruto unlocked the door and slammed it shut behind him, dropping his things into a pile on the bed, including his new clothes. There were protests on his lips—Kurama could feel them—but instead of the expected onslaught of complaints there was just a hand sign and a disguised. He stood before the mirror, his face blank as he assessed himself. Dark hair, dark eyes. Pale skin. Everything about him was the opposite of what it was in reality. He was tall instead of short, an easy to overlook bystander if ever there was one—not so generic that it was suspicious, but not so overt that he would draw attention to himself.

Kurama would never admit it out loud, but the kid developed his jutsu well.

Naruto sighed, hung his head, and scratched at his stomach. A mostly-healed scar carved its way across his abdomen, itching with the healing of newly stitched-together cells—a recent injury from a close call with standard bandits and  _ not _ the ANBU, surprisingly. “Don’tcha think this is overkill? They ain’t even here yet…”

Kurama huffed his indignance.  _ “It pays to be cautious. We can’t mess up here.” _

“Wouldn’t it be better to—er, I dunno…”

_ “To what?” _

With exaggerated exhaustion, Naruto flopped back onto the mattress to stare vacant-eyed at the ceiling. He worried his bottom lip, considering his phrasing carefully, which was an honest rarity in that boy. “Teach me to fight,” he demanded. “I’m  _ tired _ of learnin’ all this stuff to get away. I’m  _ strong, _ Kurama.”

_ “I know that, kit.” _

“Then teach me something  _ useful _ so that we can stop running away!”

He knew this was coming. He wished he had more time. There was only so much time they could waste running all over the great nations before Naruto got a little  _ too _ fed up with the chase and wanted to stand his ground. No, Naruto  _ always  _ wanted to stand his ground. There was no backing down from a fight if that boy was involved and it was only under Kurama’s very strict instruction that they’d reached a compromise with the running. It wasn’t running from a  _ fight, _ he’d told Naruto; it was running from capture. Those were two very different things with two very different outcomes and one was acceptable while the other was not.

“I’m sick of it,” Naruto continued, his head rolling to the side to face the evening hues of gold casting light through the window. “Why do we gotta run? We didn’t do anything!”

_ “I know.” _

Then he was sitting up, sudden and determined as he stared hard at his reflection of black hair and eyes, of pale skin and an inconspicuous face. “It wasn’t even your fault for the attack on the village. It was that Uchiha guy’s.”

_ “I know.” _

“Then let’s tell them,” Naruto pleaded, brow twitching, eyes hard and desperate in his reflection. “Maybe they’ll listen. Or something. Or—or I dunno, maybe…”

_ “Naruto,”  _ Kurama called, voice even and calm.  _ “They know.” _

His jaw went slack and he said nothing.

_ “That man died the night of the attack,” _ he continued after a time.  _ “Your father killed him. Then I killed your father. Kushina, too, in my rage.” _

Naruto flinched and tore his eyes away, fisting the sheets draped over the mattress and biting his lip. He shook his head once, twice. “Dad was stupid,” he spat. “You said the seal killed him.”

_ “In a way.” _

“I don’t blame you, Kurama.” Naruto swallowed against his dry mouth, a tremble to his limbs and stinging in his eyes. “...I can’t. I’ve tried to hate you and  _ I can’t.” _

Kurama decided long ago that this boy was strange indeed. Naruto was, to Kurama, a wildcard; there was no way of discerning which way he would sway, who he would side with or what he would do. Every time he opened his mouth, Kurama was left there in a baffled stupor. And every time they talked, there was no telling where it would lead. Naruto was an enigma and that was the most refreshing thing in the world.

“I hate  _ them,” _ Naruto spat and it took him off-guard, the venom in that small boy’s words. “I hate that they hate  _ you _ and that they hate me because they think that I  _ am  _ you. I hate that you’re the first person who ever told me who my parents were. I hate the way they look at me. I didn’t do anything...”

Kurama let the silence hang there as he gathered his thoughts, seeing through that boy’s eyes as they stared at the wall, breathing that boy’s breaths as though they were his own. He sat, stared, breathed and sucked in all of the hatred seeping off Naruto in spades. Raw and real and corrosive like red chakra.

And beneath that, so,  _ so _ sad.

_ “I know.” _

* * *

 

The clones that evening seemed preoccupied with something. Tenzō was hardly the first to notice—one look over at Kakashi’s narrowed eye was all he needed to know that his teammates were on the same page.

But there were  _ so many clones. _

Forty-seven, if he counted right, beating their way through the blur of the approaching sandstorm as it raised the ground. They were there to slow the team down, no doubt, but they couldn’t just ignore them; the less clones they left running around, the less scents for Kakashi to sift through. Besides, if they were there as a diversion, it meant that the ANBU were on the right track. Itachi had been right.

They were down to eleven now and the clones were running, and Tenzō was  _ so tired of running. _

“Scatter,” Kakashi commanded, and that was unusual because they rarely ever broke formation. One of the only times they had was their first big stand-off with Naruto’s—Kurama’s—shadow clones.

Far be it for him to question the captain’s orders, though.

He took off across the sand dunes to the left as the bite of cold set in, the sun just beyond the horizon, dipping lower at an exaggerated rate as time flew by around him. He didn’t need to rely on his wood for this; there was hardly any point when he knew very well that the original was not among them. Two shuriken flung forth, sailing through the air from his fingertips, and they stabbed at the clones at breakneck speed. Two bodies dispelled in smoke and that left one. He slipped a kunai out of his pouch and spun it around his finger, arm pulled back and ready to get this over with so that they could get back on the road.

Naruto spun around to meet Tenzō’s eyes, backing away as sand and wind beat around them. It was picking up. There was no helping it; with that wind, he wouldn’t be able to throw and actually  _ hit _ his target (the shuriken were one miracle too many for the night) so he’d have to get in close.

Tenzō kicked off the sand and leapt forth—

Blue eyes looked up at him, wide and scared, and he stopped his hand with a frustrated curse. The blade of his kunai hung over the clone’s eye.

Naruto swallowed, a shaky smile on his face. “U-um,” he tried, voice failing. “Thanks?”

Tenzō kept his hand there, face smooth and betraying none of the confliction raging beneath the surface. Blue eyes. Not red, but blue, and how had he never realized it before?

Lately, the clones always had blue eyes. Blue. Blue and not red.

Blue like Naruto. The  _ real _ Naruto.

The moment he realized that, everything else fell into place. He lowered his hand slowly, staring blankly at the boy that stood before him in the swirling gusts and unforgiving stand, and his heart sank.

_ “He’s fooling the both of you.” _

“This whole time…”

Naruto gave him this  _ look,  _ like he’d lost this mind, and squinted. But the boy’s attention was soon on the cycloning mass behind them. He let out a noise, small and maybe a bit too high-pitched to be taken seriously, and tugged at Tenzō’s sleeve.

“Hey hey, Tenzō—let’s go?”

Tenzō opened his mouth to protest, tightened his grip in the kunai to dispel the clone and be done with it. But then the disaster behind him made itself too loud to ignore and he pried his eyes away from Naruto long enough to see the massive tidal wave of sand and dirt coming at them like a runaway train. All he could do was stare and wonder how in the hell he managed to ignore it for that long.

Naruto, somehow, was the more pragmatic of the two. Still latched tightly to Tenzō’s sleeve, there was a quick succession of hand seals and suddenly they were elsewhere, pressed against the face of a large rock structure as the storm raged on around their security. Naruto dragged him to an overhang where they held up against the fast-approaching mass of misery. The boy poked his head out, watching curiously, and Tenzō just stood there.

What… what just happened?

Naruto whistled. “Lookit it go. Man, that was close.” He looked in, eyes squeezed shut, and grinned. “I know I’m a clone, but I rather not go out in  _ that,  _ y’know?”

“Uh,” he said, stupidly. Tenzō carded a hand through his hair and was displeased to find sand, sand, and more sand. And then there was that boy, also covered in sand, brandishing a defaced Konoha hitai-ate, and nothing made sense.

Naruto was the first to settle, because of course he was. He lowered himself down onto the sandy earth, getting cozy because this was just about the only place in the area that wasn’t getting bombarded by impossible winds, and dusted himself off. Then he noticed the ANBU, still standing there stupidly, and made a face. “...You just gonna stare at me, Tenzō?”

Tenzō was very, very confused, but he sat down anyway. That seemed satisfying enough to the clone.

Naruto yawned, scrubbing at his eyes. Tired. Exhausted, if the dark rim of his eyes was anything to go by. Tenzō thought to all of the encounters with Kurama’s clones he had in the past, how unfazed the fox seemed to be from using so much chakra, but now, looking at Naruto… that wasn’t the case, was it?

That face was one near chakra exhaustion if ever he saw one.

Naruto blinked away sleep and shook himself. He had this dopy, barely-there smile that was probably unintentional, and he wiggled his fingers. “Wasn’t supposed to shunshin,” he stated simply. “Waste of chakra. Whatever. The furball can bite me for all I care.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Tenzō leaned back against the rocks behind them. They were cool, a chill seeping in through the sleeves of his shirt, and it was a bit refreshing after six hours of non-stop heat.

What was he doing? When Kakashi ordered a scatter, he hadn’t meant  _ this. _

“Naruto?” he tried, hiding a million and one questions behind the inflection in his tone.

“Ah?”

Tenzō frowned. “You’re a missing-nin.”

“Huh?” Naruto blinked, and then a hand automatically came up to touch the metal plate of his hitai-ate. “Oh. Yeah.”

Shit. He needed to fight through the wrenching in his chest, to smooth over whatever reaction may have bubbled to the surface, but it was hard. It was hard because that entire time he truly  _ believed— _

“You never had any intention of returning to Konoha, did you?”

“Nah,” Naruto answered with a simple grin. “I was just  _ really hungry, _ y’know?”

“And the fox…”

He shrugged. “Kurama’s my friend. He was helping me.”

“Ah.”

What could he say to that? Tenzō wasn’t delusional enough to believe that this was still somehow the fox manipulating the boy. He wouldn’t cling onto the hope that this could have a happy ending. For all that he was an optimist, Tenzō wasn’t blind.

That right there was a missing-nin, a twelve-year-old boy, very nearly thirteen. The jinchuuriki of the nine-tails.

Traitor to the village.

Suddenly Naruto leaned in close, newfound light in his eyes and bounce to his movements, and Tenzō couldn’t help but lean away. “I like you,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Not Hound. He’s the worst. But I like you, Tenzō, so—” The grin faltered. Naruto’s eyes cast to the sands beneath them. “So… sorry.”

Oh no, Tenzō was feeling things. And this was not the  _ time _ to be feeling things.

Naruto yawned again, slumping back against the rock. His eyes fluttered shut. That last shunshin really must have depleted the clone’s reserves, for him to  _ actually  _ be falling asleep like that. “Hey, can you thank Itachi for the ramen? It was really really good. No Ichiraku, but…”

“Why not tell him yourself?”

Naruto let out a soft snort. “‘Cause that'd mean facing you guys. And I'm not goin’ back to Konoha. No matter what.”

That stung. He made a mental note never to tell Kakashi about this conversation, for fear of the I-told-you-so looks hidden behind friendly smiles and silent gazes.

This was a shadow clone, and he should just dispel it and move on, but…

“Our mission is to get you back to Konoha, Naruto,” Tenzō stated firmly. “Whatever reasons you have for leaving, they don't change anything. Our objective remains the same.”

“If you try to take me back,” Naruto hummed, his head barely staying up as he let out yet another squeaky yawn, “I'll kill you.”

He was afraid of that.

Naruto slid along the rock, caught in his fall by Tenzō's shoulder. For a while, they sat like that, the clone's weight pressing into his arm, heavy and solid and so very  _ there _ until it wasn't. The weight lifted, the warmth of shared body heat dispersed, and the clone was gone. Dispelled.

Tenzō waited out the sandstorm beneath the overhang of stone as his world became just a little too heavy.

* * *

 

The village inn was three stories tall, small, with five rooms on each level. Wind had a large population, larger even than Fire Country’s, but this oasis in particular was tiny and remote; they didn’t have much and fifteen guests was likely the most they ever saw at once. If Naruto stopped in that village at all, and he  _ must _ have, he would have stayed there.

They were close. Had to be.

Tenzō was sent ahead to pay for the room while Kakashi tallied their supplies and formulated their next course of action, and Itachi scouted. Itachi’s summons were  _ good _ at scouting; if Naruto was there at all, he’d be located in no time.

Tenzō smiled at the receptionist as she held out the sign-in sheet and he took it with a polite ‘thank you.’ He flipped it open to the correct date and penned in his codename, then flipped back a page; they’d just arrived shortly before dawn, so if Naruto  _ did _ make a stop there, his name would be there.

It wasn’t, he bitterly observed. No Naruto Uzumaki anywhere on the page. There were three names listed along with their times of arrival, the last of which being Menma, at 20:04.

Menma. The name nagged at him. He saw it somewhere before but couldn’t place it.

The receptionist handed over the keys to their room and he took them gratefully, climbing the steps to the second floor. The room was 205, so if he had to guess, it would be right at the end of the hall. As he landed on the second floor, he passed a young boy with dark hair and eyes that reminded him so much of the Uchiha on his team. Tenzō smiled when the boy’s eyes met his, but the child turned away coldly and quickened his pace down the stairs.

He decided not to dwell on it. Sure enough, the door at the other end was labelled 205. He fumbled with his keys, jiggled the knob, and it creaked ominously as it swung inward to reveal beyond a rickety old room with sparse furniture and a sandy colour palette. Tenzō was starting to hate sand. There was sand in his shoes, in his clothes, in his hair. In his mouth. His eyes.

Sand was very much the worst thing ever.

With a sigh, Tenzō slipped open his pair of sealing scrolls and looked over his belongings with careful thought. He still had most of his provisions, so they wouldn’t have to do much of a restock—which Kakashi would be glad for, because Kakashi was very much not a fan of spending money, even if it  _ was _ a part of the budget—and even if they were all out of food pills, Tenzō kept a few instant meals that they could heat up. There was ramen. Ramen, because it was Naruto’s favourite, and he naively thought the boy would deserve it once they suppressed the fox—

Ramen.

The name Menma was scrawled onto the sign-in sheet. Menma—a name he saw in countless inns before this one, a name that seemed to follow them around the whole of Fire Country, a name—

A name so very similar to Naruto.

Tenzō doubled around, spun on his heel, and shot down the stairs, out the front of the inn and into the streets, but the boy with black hair and black eyes was gone. He cursed and grit his teeth and pulled his eyes to the crow perched on the windowsill of the inn, recognized it for the summon that it was, and mouthed his next words carefully.

_ “Itachi, I found him.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Tenzo, you tried. Thanks for all of the comments and kudos and I hope the chapter was worth the wait! My wife has made a lovely little comic from one of the scenes of this chapter, so check it out in the 'related works' section if you're interested!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, it's been a while! I think I got a little burnt out a few months back, so sorry on the delays. My updating schedule will likely remain as erratic as ever, but I'm trying! Also the lovely Blackberreh made a comic that goes along with this chapter, so go check it out! It contains spoilers for the end of the chapter though, be warned! You can find it at the bottom of the page where it says 'works inspired by this one'. There's a comic for chapter 5 as well, and a colour spread!

The gates to Suna were situated in a cleft between two cliff faces, the edges of a valley of rock and sand that fortified the village on all sides but one. A grin tugged at Naruto’s lips as he craned his neck back to take in the full height of the structures that made up Konoha’s ally.

“Damn,” he laughed, throwing his arms behind his head as he stumbled closer, his attention stretching beyond the guards at the front gate, “this place is  _ so cool.” _

And he knew he was just saying that because it was different from the hidden village that he knew, but so what? It being so very different from Konoha was just another reason it  _ was _ cool.

Naruto's grin fell away when it came his turn to explain his visit to the gate guards. He recited this with Kurama, damn it, but that didn't make it any easier! Somehow, though, it worked.

Well, after he was pulled aside to complete his paperwork. Which Kurama took over for, because he honestly had no freakin’ clue what to write for any of the questions or how to fill out things like ‘country of residence’ and ‘occupation’ for a missing-nin. Kurama didn't, either, but he was a hell of a lot better at bullshitting.

Naruto raised his arms to the sky and laughed, eyes squeezed shut. “Freedom!” he cheered, and meant it. This was the closest thing to ‘free’ that he'd been in weeks, in more ways than one.

Naruto hadn't had to produce one damn shadow clone in  _ four days  _ and it was  _ amazing. _ He actually felt rested.  _ Well _ rested. Like he could take on the world.

The ANBU lost his trail. Kurama said they would head to Suna, too, but for now things were looking pretty great.

Suna was around the same size as Konoha from what he could tell, but everything inside was all sorts of different. The buildings looked like domes made of clay. Everything was coloured a muted beige that blended in seamlessly with the surrounding desert. And despite its size, he didn’t see all that many people walking around.

...Why did they travel all that way, exactly? For this? For  _ what? _ Twenty minutes in and Naruto already thought Suna was lame. Too much sand.

His stomach made its plea and he groaned. “Yo, Kurama, is there a ramen bar ‘round here? I’m  _ hungry.” _

_ “You’re always hungry, kit.” _

“Doesn’t change the fact that I am.”

_ “You’re unlikely to find one,” _ the fox grumbled. Grumpily.  _ “Ramen is uncommon in this country.” _

“But Kurama, I  _ need it,” _ he pleaded, ducking his head. There were eyes on him. He maybe shouldn’t talk to himself out in the open. “I miss Ichiraku…”

_ “Do you want to go back?” _

“Yes—I mean  _ no, _ I mean…” Naruto scratched his head, raised his eyes heavenward, and thought. The  _ running _ was getting to him. Now that he had those three off his tail, he wanted to enjoy his travels. This was  _ another hidden village  _ in  _ a whole other country. _ This  _ should _ have been the coolest place to be  _ ever. _ But he’d ran so long that he never had a chance to do anything else.

Now the chance presented itself, and he had no idea what to do with it.

And there was no ramen. That sucked.

_ “There should still be vendors,” _ Kurama supplied with a sigh, and Naruto lit up.  _ “Stick to the main roads and you’ll find them eventually.” _

Naruto pumped his fists. “Sweet! Thanks, old man!”

_ “Cheeky brat.” _

And Naruto could only laugh, because the most surreal thing in the world was exchanging double-edged insults with a giant manifestation of hatred and chakra.

 

***

 

He was bleeding. For a moment, all that he could feel was the cold rush of  _ something _ spread across his limbs. Then, bubbling deep beneath the surface, the boiling heat of a rage that was not his own.

_ Kurama, no, _ he pleaded.  _ Calm down. _

His hands shook, stained and dripping red. They wrapped feebly around the compressed sand piercing his abdomen, pushing at it weakly, uselessly, as his body dangled off the ground. He coughed and choked and forced his eyes open to stare hazily across at unaffected eyes on a pale face.

_ “He’s a jinchuuriki,” _ Kurama hissed,  _ “He’ll kill you. I won’t let him  _ kill you _.” _

Naruto wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his breaths heavy and burdened and shuddering against the pain, and forced a smile. “Like he could.”

The compressed sand broke apart and crumbled away, and he hit the ground with a merciless thud. He hissed, his back throbbing as he rolled over and forced himself up onto all fours. The ground was so close, sweat beading down the bridge of his nose, dripping and fading into the earth beneath him.

What the hell was that? What the hell  _ was he? _

A jinchuuriki. A tailed beast container.

_ Someone like me. _

Naruto swallowed the metallic wash in his mouth and raised his head to meet the gaze of the motionless boy looming over him. The jinchuuriki’s face was cracked, chipping away to reveal beneath it the porcelain-pale complexion of the boy’s skin. That outer layer—what was that? Some sort of armour?

Sand. It was sand.

He rasped out a laugh, keeping himself up by the balance of his forearms as he felt the newly familiar burn of the bleeding edges of his wound mend, Kurama’s chakra pooling out of the seal like a barrier of light. It strained the seal—he could  _ feel _ it. Tugging. The pull of Kurama’s anger—of  _ his _ frustration—fighting against its constraint.

“Armour and a shield?” he hissed with thin amusement. “Hardly seems fair.”

Green eyes watched him with disinterest. The cracks in the boy’s skin slowly mended.

“H-hey,” he whispered and winced, his every movement a painstaking effort, “if you’ve got some cool defense like that, now’s the time to tell me, Furball.”

_ “Not quite.” _

“Figures,” he laughed. “Useless freeloader.”

With braced effort and a cry that didn’t sound all too manly, Naruto staggered back onto his feet, swaying in the clouded winds of sand that breezed by. He wasn’t sure what the hell just happened, didn’t know why this man attacked or what he was supposed to do next. One moment, he was running loudly from a street vendor when he realized he couldn’t pay for his meal—he’d used the last of his ryō on this third night’s stay at the bed and breakfast by the gate—and the next he knew, he was on the ground with a wave of sand crushing him beneath an insane weight. He’d bumped into this guy, maybe. It was all a blur.

Then Kurama’s chakra was flaring to life on his skin and the sand was pried apart by the sheer  _ force _ of it just long enough to escape and he  _ ran _ at the guy, threw back his fist and—

But it connected with sand, not skin. A wall of it. Shifting and changing and matching his every move  _ effortlessly _ and this whole thing seemed wholly unfair.

A few failed blows later and he was spilling his guts across the dirt. This was so uncool.

Naruto stumbled back, crouching low to the protest of his injury, and his muscles tensed. “Hey, No-Brows,” he breathed. “Why’re we fighting?”

The boy narrowed his eyes and raised his hand, sand coiling around him like a cocoon. “You’re a nuisance.”

So he didn’t know, either. Huh.

The sand shot forth like bullets only to break apart before impact, eaten away by corrosive red chakra right at the last possible moment. Naruto looked down at himself, at the claws lining his fingertips like a warning. He licked his teeth, feeling sharp edges that should not have been there, and the whole thing felt too familiar.

Painfully so.

“Not now,” he ground out, fisting one hand as the other slid into his kunai pouch. Then the action was aborted, because if a fist wasn’t enough to break through this guy’s defenses then a kunai sure as hell wouldn’t be.  _ “Don’t,  _ Kurama.”

_ “You’ll die.” _

“As though I would.”

Naruto shot forward, a blur of motion and sand and red chakra swirling in the winds. He slammed his fist into the shield of sand and it gave briefly only to reform before he could move past it. There was a delay, though. He needed to be faster. Faster, more agile, because that jerk was still just  _ standing there. _

Behind him, the blanket of Kurama’s chakra twisted and morphed and sprouted a second tail.

It stung, that chakra. He could feel it heating his skin from within, was too keenly aware of the fever of his thoughts.

He leapt off the ground and spun into a roundhouse kick that connected with sand. A wall of it. A freakin’ shield and he was  _ so sick _ of sand. How the hell had he gotten past it that first time?

No, wait. He knew. He knew because Kurama pulled forward then, forced Naruto to take a backseat to his control, and Naruto’s mind was called back to leaves and a scroll and Iruka-sensei dead at his feet. This control was different from what he felt when they switched. This control was more complete, involuntary.

The embodiment of Kurama’s rage.

Bodies and leaves and red chakra.

Naruto shook away his thoughts and dodged the cloud of sand threatening to ensnare him. He leapt over No-Brows and landed behind, swinging his fist around—

_ “That won’t work, kit!” _

No-Brows twisted to face him but he was already gone in a blur of shunshin speed, materializing at his foe’s back and slamming his everything into one  _ finally _ connecting punch. The armour of sand cracked and crumbled and  _ I did it— _

A strangled cry clawed up from his throat as the bones in his arm fractured beneath unbearable force. Naruto grit his teeth and fell to the ground, curling around the white-hot burn of the sand encasing his arm. It hurt. It hurt so  _ completely _ that he couldn’t bear to open his eyes, couldn’t bear to look at the damage, couldn’t even  _ think. _

“Lord Gaara is attacking!” a voice cried from the crowds gathered around. Suddenly there was panic, screaming,  _ running _ and why were they running? Naruto was the one getting hurt. Why would they run? This was their jinchuuriki, wasn’t it? Their living weapon. Their tool against rival villages.

“Take cover!”

Naruto sucked in a painful breath and forced open a red eye. Through the haze of red chakra he could see the people of Suna scatter, vacating the streets, staring back at No-Brows as they ran with complete and utter  _ terror _ in their eyes.

Oh. Oh, this man was like Naruto, wasn’t he?

A third tail sprouted from the mass of chakra orbiting him, flicking out wildly at the world.

He forced his eye on his very indifferent opponent as the armour of sand repaired itself. The first dregs of fatigue were finally making themselves known on the stranger’s face and Naruto could sense out his depleting chakra reserves because that was the second time he’d needed to repair the armoured layer of sand. Naruto tried to grin, to give him one more reason to be angry, but couldn’t bring himself to through the pain.

Why were they fighting, anyhow? One little bump to the shoulder and No-Brows went in for the kill.

He tried to move his arm. He couldn’t. No, no no  _ no, _ this wasn’t okay, this wasn’t—

His body jerked, a hardened spear of sand piercing his chest, and he breathed in nothing.

Everything was getting cold again, cold against the heat, against Kurama’s surfacing rage, and Naruto’s vacant eyes stared at the streets. A man stumbled back, his legs giving out beneath him, and he fell to the ground with his hand covering his mouth, looking every bit like he was going to lose his lunch. His eyes were on No-Brows, on the swirls of sand sifting through the air like a waiting assault, and his whole body trembled.

“M-monster…”

Naruto went still, considering the man. Monster, huh?

Monster.

Naruto was cold. His clothes were slick with his own blood. His arm was crushed and immobile and everything was going wrong, wrong, wrong, and yet that man, that  _ word, _ that everything—

The fourth tail manifested and Naruto’s mind went blank.

The chill of blood loss felt like a far-off echo. The world was dark. He closed his eyes to the village around him, to the pains of his body, and allowed himself to drift. Anger was there, ripe and fresh and  _ cutting _ and  _ bitter _ as he was brought back to his life in Konoha, to the sidelong stares and whispered words of strangers in the streets. He was six again, dragging his feet back to his empty apartment, turning on the hall light to find no one there. He kicked off his shoes, pulled out a packet of ramen, and stared at it blankly as his eyes stung and he brushed away unneeded tears.

Then there was Iruka-sensei, warm smiles and sunshine and the tantalizing smell of an irreplaceable ramen bar.

And then there wasn’t.

Naruto felt in waves. He would bury his contempt beneath bold-faced lies of confidence and attention-seeking desperation. All of his anger and sadness bottled up inside, compressed, left forgotten until it could be forgotten no more. Then it exploded. And with it went the world.

There was a man with red hair and no eyebrows and the kanji for ‘love’ branded on his forehead, and that word carried with it a weight that Naruto could intimately understand. That man was a monster and a container for something greater than himself, a weapon for his village. He had no choice in what he was or who he was or what he became. That man was a product of the world. That man was feared and revered and never had a choice.

That man was Naruto, and he could no longer hold onto his hate.

The world bled back into conscious sight and Naruto found himself hovering over a bloodied and bruised man with fear in his eyes. Armoured sand was cracked and broken across his skin and beneath it lied marred purple-blue flesh. The jinchuuriki’s defensive shield sanded the dirt, immobile as that boy used up the very last of his chakra to try to recreate his protective shell.

Naruto’s hand stopped just before his opponent’s face, his entire arm covered in blood, skin burned and aching, hissing red. He wanted to scream against the pain but found that he didn’t have the energy. Half-dazed, Naruto drew back his fist, straightened his back, and watched the man. Sand rattled at their feet as No-Brows reached for control with his chakra, but there wasn’t enough left to pose a threat.

He looked around to find the whole block levelled to little more than ruins at their feet, and distantly wondered if he’d done all of this. He thought that maybe he did, and he wanted to care, wanted to feel guilt so  _ badly, _ but all that was there was a distant acknowledgement, an unfeeling ‘oh.’

Because this village had a jinchuuriki, and this jinchuuriki was just like himself.

Naruto turned again to face his opponent, still bleeding all over the sand. He sucked in a breath, thankful to be able to breathe again without the choking dread of  _ no air— _ and why was that, anyway?—and leaned down to offer his hand.

No-Brows stared at it, wide-eyed and wary.

He smiled, tired and so very, very sore, and all he wanted was ramen and a long fourteen-hour nap. “C’mon,” he whispered with an overused voice. His jaw ached, as though it’d been torn open. “We fought, so now we’re friends. Or something.”

“Wh—” No-Brows twitched. “What?”

Naruto tried to grin but it didn’t hold its usual vibrance. Blood dripped from his hand, a steady reminder of his injuries, of injuries that should for all intents and purposes have killed him, and snatched his opponent’s wrist up, hauling No-Brows to his feet.

He gave the village more thoughtful observation. No, it wasn’t just the block that was levelled. What could only be the aftermath of explosions pitted the distant buildings through the carnage. There were no bodies, but he remembered the civilians vacating when the fight first broke out. Knowing there were likely no casualties fought away the threads of guilt that he was finally starting to feel.

But this was bad. This was very, very bad. Nothing about this was okay and he couldn’t be there and he was damn-near  _ terrible _ at medical ninjutsu but they were both  _ bleeding— _

_ Please tell me I have enough chakra left for this. _

The most worrying thing about it all was that Kurama did not answer.

From across rooftops, he could see the bodies of uniformed men arising in swirls of sand and wind. Whoever they were, they couldn’t have been good.

Naruto hooked his own arm around the too-dazed-to-be-struggling redhead’s and formed a practiced hand seal and they were gone, leaving in their wake a crumbling village and a world of fear.

 

* * *

 

Naruto wasn’t exactly sure where they ended up. He shunshined without a destination in mind, his only thoughts focused on  _ not here. _ There were trees, surprisingly—a few cropping up from the sands around a small pool of water. An oasis. In the distance stood a tall fortress of rocks and edges, and Naruto was pretty sure that had to be Suna.

He breathed a sigh of relief and slid down to the ground, finally released his captive, and looked down to assess the damage. There were two large, gaping holes in his shirt and outer robe, but the skin beneath was healed over, leaving nothing more than a red and raw scar. He tested his left arm, flexed his fingers. It hurt, but it moved. It moved  _ naturally, _ in the ways that he told it to, instead of swinging involuntarily at his side. But it wasn’t all good news. Every piece of his skin was burned red and aching, an endless sea of open sores that he could never hope to heal on his pathetic medical ninjutsu alone. Beneath the surface, his body screamed at him not to move, that if he tried he would be brought damn near  _ tears, _ and he was inclined to believe those warnings.

No-Brows stood over him, swaying like his legs were about to give way, but for all that he was bruised and bloodied himself, it didn’t look all that serious. Fatigue, mostly. Aches and pains that he would recover from with time.

A whole section of the village was  _ gone _ and here this guy was, worse for wear and otherwise fine. What a joke.

No-Brows stared down at him vacantly, as though considering another assault even while on the bleeding edges of chakra exhaustion, before wobbling to the ground himself. Exhaustion was a good deterrent to conflict.

“Why did you not kill me?” No-Brows rasped out. There was no inflection in his voice, not like the last time he spoke. He’d calmed down. It showed on his face, a blank mask of indifference that Naruto recognized from the early stages of their fight.

Naruto shrugged, lowering one of his arms cautiously into the water. He hissed, the chill assaulting his raw skin like acid, before a soothing coolness quelled the burn. He closed his eyes. Ahh… Whatever that had been back there, he regretted it. Nothing should ever be so painful. “Why should I?”

“I lost.”

“Yeah?” Naruto chuckled and it ended in a cough. His lungs were still hating him, even if he could breathe again. “I dunno ‘bout that. I think… I lost consciousness at some point. Or somethin’. Which  _ sucks _ ‘cause I wanted to kick your ass myself.”

He peeked an eye open to see that his fellow human weapon was very, wholeheartedly confused. It brought with it perverse satisfaction and he smiled.

“I’m a jinchuuriki, too,” he stated simply, turning his attention to the sky, welcoming the blue relief from sights of nothing but sand and stone and the occasional cactus. His time in Wind Country saw cloudy skies across the board; this was the first time the world looked less bleak. “You attacked me, sure— _ unprovoked,” _ he added for good measure. “But I can’t hate you. And I don’t want you dead.”

“But why?”

Naruto hummed. His brain hurt. All this thinking was painful and all he wanted was sleep, not to be the moral pillar for which his fellow jinchuuriki stood. “I see myself in you,” he said quietly, swallowing against the dryness of his throat. “I know how it feels to be so alone that all you can do is lash out, y’know?”

It was quiet. He leaned over and cupped his hands, bringing a pool of water to his parched lips, and nothing ever tasted so sweet. He couldn’t bring himself to meet No-Brows’s eyes, didn’t want to see if his words got a reaction out of the man. The words felt like a betrayal, sharing them with someone other than himself, and admitting it all aloud felt wrong and embarrassing. But this man was like him, in every sense, and how could he not?

“They look at me the same way,” he continued, betraying himself and hating it. “And I hate it. It’s not my fault that I’m stuck with a tailed beast. I don’t even know what they are, really… But they look at me like I’m a monster. I’m not.  _ We’re _ not.”

At times, he wanted to give them something to fear. Kurama encouraged it, even if he knew it was probably a feeling that he should confront and diminish. He was quite content with burying it deep enough that it would never see the light of day.

He splashed water across his face and was thankful for so, so many things. Like shade and water and blue skies and not dying.

“So I'm gonna be your friend,” he said simply, finally daring to look back at the redhead. There were a lot of things drawn on that boy's face but Naruto wasn't well versed enough in the language of ‘no eyebrows’ to really decide what those things were. Ah, whatever. No-Brows wasn't crushing him with sand so it was good enough.

“You know nothing of me,” No-Brows stated when he found his voice.

Naruto grinned. “No better time to start learning, then, y'know?” He raised an aching thumb to point at himself, his name falling off his tongue like water, but he swallowed it. His name. The name given to him by his father. The name that was currently the bane of his existence. The name that he could not use anymore without fear of some Konoha shinobi using it to track him down. He was starting to hate that name, no matter how much it was his. “My name's Naruto Uzumaki, and I'm gonna be the world's greatest ninja! Call me Menma. My hobbies are harassing ANBU and ramen. My likes are ramen and Kurama. My dislikes are Konoha and also Kurama. My dream is, um,” he had to think because being the best ninja was great and all but it seemed impractical at the moment, “to eat ramen. And to maybe not die anytime soon ‘cause that would suck. Now you.”

The redhead looked baffled, seated cross-legged by the water as his hand grabbed absently at the sands. But then it smoothed out, a strange determination taking its place, and he nodded. “My name is Gaara of Suna. I am the jinchuuriki of the tailed beast Shukaku.”

It ended there. Naruto blinked, waiting for the rest, and laughed when nothing followed. What a weird guy. “Likes?” he prodded.

“I have none.”

“Er, dislikes?”

“Most things.”

Naruto was doubled over, clutching his stomach and trying very desperately to hold in his snickers because this guy was really,  _ really  _ weird but that was okay. Naruto understood it. Well, a bit, anyway. Gaara was feeling like a more monotone, socially inept version of Kurama. Naruto knew Kurama. He could handle Kurama. Even if this Kurama was a hell of a lot shorter and was missing his eyebrows.

Once he caught his breath, he held out a hand, wiggling his fingers. Gaara just stared.

“C'mon,” he whined. “We're friends now. You don't gotta be so grumpy about it.”

“My sand—”

Naruto rolled his eyes and snatched up Gaara's hand, shook it firmly and smiled. “Was that so bad, No-Brows?”

 

* * *

 

This guy was funny. Naruto never saw someone so carefully apply bandages yet still manage to do such a terrible job. He watched with his hand outstretched, Gaara unravelling the gauze around the painful sores and burns on his skin, head tilted as he carefully contained his amusement.

Gaara didn’t much care for being laughed at. It was as though he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to it or what it meant. And really, Naruto was the same in that regard. He didn’t have much experience socially, apart from Iruka-sensei and Kurama. There was that Hinata girl that would sometimes follow him around, but she never actually spoke to him, and then, er…

There was old man Hokage. That old man who he saw formally once or twice a month. And really, the old man was nice and all, but…

Well. Old man Third was just keeping an eye on the jinchuuriki, wasn’t he?

Gaara clipped the wrappings closed. His eyes narrowed slightly. It was a barely-there change, one easily overlooked, but Naruto was coming to find that when Gaara was calm, his expressions were cryptic. They were subtle, quiet, and that right there was a look of mild frustration. The bandages were too loose, slipping free at the elbow, but Naruto didn’t really care; so long as it kept sand out of the open sores, he was happy.

Naruto flexed his arm and bent it to test the hold. Well, whatever. It’d do. He flashed Gaara a teasing grin anyway, though. “You’re kinda terrible at this.”

Gaara met his eyes and there were feelings behind that look.

Naruto offered up his other arm and that look lingered for a bit longer before the process was repeated there, too. “Suppose you don’t get hurt much with that sand shield.”

Gaara’s movements were careful and meticulous, even more so than before. They’d already patched Gaara up; his sand tried to intervene when it came to the sting of the antiseptic, though. “I never felt pain before today.”

“Never?”

“No.”

Naruto pouted. “Huh. Feels like I drew the short straw with Kurama.” To the questioning look that he received, he scratched his head with his bandaged arm. “Er, he’s… brute strength, mostly. I guess? I dunno. Our seal is apparently really restrictive, and his chakra has a nasty backlash. Like, um.” He waved his hand around, much to Gaara’s displeasure.

“It harms you,” Gaara finished, cutting away the excess gauze.

“Yeah. Badly.”

“But it is… powerful.”

“...Yeah.”

He tested those bandages next and nodded. They weren’t so loose; Gaara was getting the hang of it. This time Gaara looked satisfied, or about as satisfied as he  _ could _ look. They filled their canteens, ate the junk food Naruto had stored away in his scroll, and relaxed. The heat of the sun was giving way to evening chill. Soon their world would be unbearably cold. They would layer up and protect themselves from the subzero night. For now, though, they rested.

Naruto retreated inward, searching for the strangely silent freeloader within. He found himself in that same dark, wet place, the seal within him, at a set of impossibly large bars, and behind them rested a fox, giant and orange and lying there, head resting on its chin, red eyes watching Naruto softly.

Naruto let out a very loud, long sigh of relief and sat down in water that he couldn’t feel, wetness that wasn’t there.

“You scared the crap outta me, old man,” he groaned, burying his face against his arms, feeling the weight of the world around him. “Where’ve you been?”

_ “Here,” _ Kurama said simply.  _ “Where I always am.” _

Naruto peeked out from around his arms to shoot the fox a glare. “You haven’t been answering me. I thought—”

_ “Thought what?” _

“...I dunno.” He scratched his head, listening to the rolling growls of Kurama’s breath. “What you did back there—that scared me.”

Kurama narrowed his eyes, tails flicking and coiling behind him.  _ “That was not me, kit.” _

“...What?”

_ “You released my chakra all on your own.” _

No, that… that couldn’t have been right. He remembered the same feeling, the same burning pain along his skin as that day three months ago, that day where Iruka-sensei lied cold at his feet and Kurama reached out, spoke to him,  _ encouraged him, _ and—

And he had been the one to accept that offer.

Naruto straightened his back, took in his bandaged hands, half-expecting claws at the end of his fingertips. Red chakra burning at his skin. There was nothing, though—just aches and pains and the aftermath of a familiar rage.

“Oh,” he finally said, understanding as a lump formed at the back of his throat. He fisted his hands and met Kurama’s eyes with a kind of desperation that he hated. “...I didn’t like that, Kurama.”

_ “I know.” _

Naruto staggered and swayed to his feet, taking weak, thoughtless steps forward until he was crossing the bars into Kurama’s cage, the spaces between them more than wide enough for his small body to pass through. From so close, Kurama looked larger than life, a towering, impossible mass of fur and hatred and chakra. Teeth the size of him poked out from behind black lips. Nine tails thrashed about in the background, and Naruto reached a hand out to awkwardly touch the fur of Kurama’s paw.

Kurama narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

His shoulders sloped downward and he dropped to the floor, leaning back against Kurama’s leg. Heat ebbed off the fox in waves, a comforting security against the chill. He couldn’t feel the water, but he could feel Kurama. Kurama was there, solid and real as the bars that confined him.

Kurama sighed, closed his eyes, and lowered his head back down, right beside his jinchuuriki. For a time, they just waited out the night there, together, comforted by the stewing silence, the body heat radiating off one another.

_ “You were right, kit,” _ Kurama admitted, his voice gravelly and low.  _ “I should have trained you to do more than run away. And I will.” _

Blue eyes looked up to watch the fox, a tired smile passing Naruto’s lips, and he leaned all of his weight against Kurama’s leg. “Told ya that I was.”

Kurama snorted. “Cheeky brat.”

“Gaara’s comin’ with us,” Naruto said suddenly, as though he couldn’t stop himself. “Like it or not.”

_ “I don’t.” _

“Don’t care,” Naruto huffed, crossing his arms and turning away from the oversized ball of anger and fur. “I won’t leave him. He wants to come, he’s comin’. Like it or not.”

Kurama sighed. One of his tails reached around to lightly flick the human’s face, earning a sputter and a shove, and Kurama laughed.

Like that, it felt like everything might be okay.

Naruto opened his eyes to the outside world, to a frostbitten night of clear skies and a sea of stars. He cast a glance across the fire at Gaara, the self-proclaimed insomniac, and pulled the thick woolen blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Gaara looked at him then, a mild interest in his eyes. “You’ve returned.”

Naruto grinned. “Sorry. Was I out a while?”

“Two hours, just about.”

He whistled. “Damn. Sorry! Did I worry you?”

“Not really.” Gaara looked away, stoking the fire as his sand huddled around him like a blanket. There were still medical supplies scattered about their campgrounds, only half of which Naruto actually knew how to  _ use, _ and Naruto was amused to find that more of his snacks had been collateral in his two hour nap. “They will come looking for me.”

Suna was there, on the cusp of the horizon, a veritable fortress of rock and sand. In the darkness, all that they could make out was a faded silhouette. “Yeah. I know. And ANBU are after me.” He twisted, leaning in eagerly, firelight dancing in his eyes. “Who cares? We’re jinchuuriki. Who’s gonna stop us?”

“The ANBU, evidently.”

Naruto pouted. “Well, you’re no fun. Jeez…”

He chugged back the water in his canteen before handing it off to Gaara. There was a moment of pause before it was taken, and he watched amusedly. Satisfied, he curled up on the sand and closed his eyes, cocooning himself in blankets. “With your defense and my power, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a few ANBU and some Suna jōnin to take us out. Just you wait.”

The moon was full and big in the sky, casting a haunting glow across the sand dunes, and he grinned.

“We’ll take on the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and I hope the gap between this chapter and the next won't be so long. And as always, thanks so much for the lovely comments. They make working on these stories even more enjoyable!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad to say, sporadic updates will continue to be... sporadic. But I'm still writing, just slowly. Hope you're ready for a Team Ro chapter, because lemme tell ya...

Stood before the ANBU were the towering gates of Suna, cleft between two matching cliff faces, a natural fortification against any enemy ninja that surrounded the village in a humble cocoon of protection. This was the only opening, the only way through by foot without climbing over the steep rock edges and guarded perimeters that made up Suna’s natural defence. There was nothing short of an aerial attack that could take Suna off guard, which was part of what made it such a formidable opponent in the war.

There was relief, so much relief at finally making their way there. Naruto’s destination. Tenzō knew that it wouldn’t be so easy, sure. They would still have to  _ find _ the kid and  _ subdue him _ , and the defaced hitai-ate brandished proudly on Naruto’s head was sign enough that this was going to be the hard part.

Naruto was a missing-nin. In any— _ any _ —other circumstance, the kid would have his name in the Konoha bingo books and would be marked for death. But this child—this stupid, misguided,  _ painfully human child _ , was Konoha’s only jinchuuriki. That was the one thing that would keep Naruto alive, what  _ had _ kept him alive, because every retrieval team and hunter sent after Naruto was under the limitation of ‘do not kill.’

Tenzō was not sure what would happen to the boy when they brought him back to Konoha. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Naruto held some significance to the Hokage, something that ran deeper than his title of jinchuuriki allowed, but Tenzō wasn’t confident that that was enough to save the boy.

He really wished that things didn’t turn out this way.

He especially wished they weren’t turned away at Suna’s gates.

The Suna guard sized them up, scrutinized them from behind his mask, and shooed them away with a dismissive hand. “Shoo. We don’t need your kind here.”

Kakashi stepped forward before either of the others could, hands in his pockets and looking like he rather be anyplace else. Tenzō could sympathize. After travelling through the desert for so long, they could all use proper rest, even if they knew they wouldn’t be getting it if Naruto was still hiding out there. “Maa, no need for hostilities.” There was something hostile behind his tone, though, something an unfamiliar ally would never have picked up on. “We’re looking for someone. We have reason to suspect that he has entered Suna.”

The guard tilted his head, brow raised, looking faintly bored as he and his partner rested their chins in their hands. They were seated side-by-side in the booth, a third guard blocking entry, looming in the gateway, and they also looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there. “That’s cute and all, but no foreign shinobi are to enter the village without a formal invitation.” He blinked innocently, mockingly. “I don’t suppose you three have one?”

Tenzō cast his eyes over to Itachi, to the crimson glow of an activated sharingan. Itachi was paying no heed to the guards, or to his own team. He was fixed beyond, seeing through the darkness something that Tenzō could never hope to.

The world was still beyond the gate, like the home of a dead and broken people.

Tenzō cleared his throat. “With all respect,” he interjected, feeling like his own words may come across as softer than his captain’s, “we’re Konoha-nin. Allies. We mean you no harm, but  _ please _ —”

“No one,” the second guard spat, lip curled into a snarl that was all teeth. He leaned forward in his seat like an oncoming warning, “ _ no one enters. _ You don’t like it, you can take it up with Lord Kazekage.”

Tenzō opened his mouth to make his second plea when he found a hand on his shoulder, grip firm with warning. Itachi was looking at him now, eyes black and sharingan hidden. They both turned to their captain for guidance because, really, this decision was not on them.

Kakashi closed his eye and let out a long breath. “I see,” he said simply. “Well. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Kakashi turned away from the gates and retreated with a slow and lazy gait, the rest of Team Ro falling in line.

It was late. Nighttime in the desert was stupid to navigate through so they set up camp. In the sand. And oh, how Tenzō  _ hated _ sand. How he was so  _ sick _ of sand. He’d been looking forward to lodging in an inn, and maybe acting the part of a standard jōnin was making him spoiled, but all of that went out the window the moment they were refused entry.

They sat around a fire, blankets thick and heavy over their shoulders, blocking out the frozen air.

“There was an attack,” Itachi said, soft and easy as he warmed his hands by the open flame. Through the stretching dark came an inky black figure, a silhouetted crow flapping through the howling winds. It landed squarely on Itachi’s shoulder, righting itself. Tenzō never saw Itachi summon his crows but expected that he would have used them; they were incredibly useful scouts. “From what I gathered, a main section of the market was collateral. Several other areas are damaged, too, and the patterns left behind look to me like a long-ranged attack.”

Tenzō clasped his hands together beneath the blanket, a nagging voice telling him just what that could mean. He didn’t want to listen. “Explosions?”

“Possibly,” Itachi affirmed.

Kakashi settled a lazy eye on the sands at their feet, blue shadows contrasting the orange wash of light. “What did you find?”

The crow flapped its wings, cocked its head to the side and then vanished in a puff of smoke. Itachi’s eyes were hard as he leaned back against one of the large rocks surrounding their campsite. “It seems that the attack was orchestrated by a jinchuuriki.”

Tenzō breathed. He tried to, at least, but it was hard. “Naruto?” he asked,  _ pleaded _ with Itachi to shut down his assumption. If Konoha was suspected to have sent a jinchuuriki to attack, it could very well be enough to severe their tentative alliance.

“Another,” Itachi replied. “Suna's own jinchuuriki. There was another party at play, however. An unknown.”

Kakashi looked up from the sand to each of their faces. “And that would be the Uzumaki boy.”

“I suspect as much.”

There was quiet then, the crackle and burn of a hissing fire filling the night air followed shortly by a collective sigh.

That boy would start a war if they weren't careful.

This was  _ about _ the worst situation they could have found themselves in when arriving in Suna. They found a fellow hidden village in lockdown with a team of shinobi panicking over the attack of their own jinchuuriki. Or, well, maybe their jinchuuriki was  _ responding _ to Naruto’s attack instead. Anything was possible. The brat could be quite the little hell-raiser, for all that Tenzō had a soft spot for him, and they couldn’t outrule anything until they had the boy in their custody. The worst part was that they now had no hints as to whether their target was still hiding within the village, or if he fled shortly after the attack. It was likely the latter, sure. But  _ likely _ was not the same as  _ certainly _ and they couldn’t afford to work on a hunch.

Kakashi clapped his hands together, snapping them out of their collective thoughts and bringing them back to the moment at hand. A lazy eye scrolled over to Itachi, fixing him pointedly. “You’re scouting?”

Itachi nodded. “My crows haven’t noticed any abnormalities within Suna. I’ll be expanding my search to the land beyond.”

“Good. The moment you find anything, we’ll move.”

Which meant another sleepless night. That was fine. They were  _ ANBU _ . They didn’t  _ need _ sleep. Tenzō was not bitter. Nor was he concerned that the lack of rest would impede their performance when it came to the capture of their jinchuuriki.

This was another disaster just waiting to happen.

“Tenzō?” He snapped to attention, looking at his captain. “Your wood release. You should be able to pacify another tailed beast with it, am I understanding that correct?”

“I—” He blinked, frowned, pressed his thumb and forefinger to his chin. The only time he’d ever used his wood release to pacify the nine-tails was during Naruto’s little scheme. A part of him worried that the effectiveness of his wood release was a part of that deception—that it wasn’t effective at all, and that the fox went along with it just to make the scenario feel believable. “In theory, I should be able to. But my wood release isn’t comparable to Lord Hashirama’s. It’s also inconvenient to set up, so I’ll need support if I’m going to subdue his chakra. A genjutsu, preferably. Something to keep him in place.”

Kakashi nodded, turning over the ration bar in his hand. He’d dug it out of his scroll when they first sat down but hadn’t made to eat. There were hard lines creasing his brow, a stress laid deep beneath the surface that he was allowing to bubble up.

Wait.

Tenzō averted his eyes to the fire and swallowed down the lump in his throat. “You think that Naruto and this other jinchuuriki are working together?”

“That, or fighting,” Kakashi sighed and his eye slid closed. “Maa, I’m not sure what we’ll find. We need to be prepared for anything.”

“...Right.”

Tenzō covered his face with his hands, took a deep, steading breath, and looked out into the night. The moon was out, a golden hue across a velvet sky littered in stars. He took comfort in that view, in the calmness it invoked, and begged the Sage to let them wait out the remainder of the hours in relative peace. They all needed a break, needed time to gather their thoughts. Perhaps Kakashi wasn’t all that bothered by it, but Tenzō was. Itachi was.

A part of him still wanted to cling to that happy ending he envisioned all those months ago. But he was no fool, and he’d been in ANBU long enough to know how these things tended to play out.

The red of Itachi’s eyes cut through the dull hues of midnight. “I’ve found them.”

 

* * *

 

Still within sight of Suna was an oasis. It was small, easily overlooked amidst the rocks and rough terrain of the cliffside desert. At the edge of a crystal clear pool of water flickered the soft orange glow of a fire. Huddled around it were two small bodies, one lying horizontal and buried beneath three layers of blankets, the other cocooned by a veritable shell of sand.

This was the first time they had gotten this close without Naruto—or the fox, he wasn’t sure which—sensing their approach and bolting straight out of the area with a shunshin and a barrage of clones. Kakashi was both optimistic and incredibly wary. He wouldn’t risk that opportunity by barging in head-first. They’d done that. They’d done that  _ many _ times, and not once had they come out on top. For all that Naruto wasn’t as technically skilled as his ANBU pursuers, he was tenacious. He was tenacious and the fox was  _ cunning _ . Only Naruto had the chakra reserves to make the multi shadow clone jutsu such an infuriating thing to go up against. And, of course, the fox had the know-how to take full advantage of it.

They first needed to get Naruto caught in a genjutsu. The fox could dispel genjutsu. That made it  _ slightly _ more annoying. The trick, then, was to make sure Naruto—or,  _ again _ , the fox—never knew he was trapped in the first place. If they could keep Naruto trapped for just  _ ten seconds _ , Kakashi could get close enough to place suppressant seals on his body. That would do away with the ‘clone’ issue, and he was fairly certain that Naruto wasn’t adept at taijutsu. And if he happened to try to tap into the tailed beast’s power, Tenzō was there at the ready to put a stop to it before it got too far. Without the endless chakra reserves to rely on, Naruto was just a loudmouth kid with a bad attitude.

In a way, Naruto sometimes reminded him of another loudmouth with a bad attitude. A funny thing, that.

Obito was probably the one to blame for this situation, really.

Kakashi’s eye scrolled over to the other one, the redhead who sat very much awake and alert, but distracted. The boy’s eyes kept drifting to Naruto, to the tuft of messy blond hair sticking out from beneath the cocoon of blankets, then back to the fire. That kid was going to be the real challenge; he was a wild card, a shinobi they had no prior knowledge on. A  _ jinchuuriki _ .

Kakashi sucked in a breath and lifted the left side of his hitai-ate, bringing it level on his forehead. Immediately his vision sharpened. The edges of everything before him became crisp and vibrant even through the dark of night. He could see the burned skin of Naruto’s face, the sores broken out across his skin. The bandages, just barely poking out from within the blankets. The kid looked like he’d just been set on fire or—or  _ something _ . His chakra was weak, partially depleted. There was enough left to pose a threat, sure. And Kakashi knew better than to underestimate him again.

The other boy’s chakra levels were nothing too impressive, either. If there was any chance to catch them, it was now.

Keeping his eyes on the target, Kakashi flashed a hand signal to his teammates in waiting. Not a moment later, Itachi was there, standing amidst the sands like a phantom in the wind, sharingan weaving a pattern in his eyes.

Naruto’s eyes snapped open and he snarled, bearing his teeth as he shot upright—

His eyes met Itachi’s and they had him.

The other boy’s eyes narrowed on the new arrival but there was no time to move—wooden pillars sprang up from the earth and encircled him. But the moment they wound around his skin, that cocoon of sand around him shot out like a bullet and snapped the wood, splitting each pillar down the centre. They curled uselessly around themselves but more followed, again and again as the child calmly rose to his feet and evaded every hit without a moment’s thought.

Shit. Okay, so the sand shield proved more of a pain than he thought. Itachi needed to maintain eye contact for the genjutsu, so he was out. Tenzō’s wood style wasn’t proving very effective, and that kid wasn’t tapping into his tailed beast chakra.

But that kid wasn’t their target.  _ Naruto _ was.

Kakashi shot forth in a blur of motion and wind and a split second later he was there, knelt before the hazy eyes of Konoha’s jinchuuriki with a chakra suppressor already in hand—

The moment he tried to apply it, a wall of sand pushed his hand awayand shoved him back. He stumbled, jumped away and slid across the sands at his feet, and—

Sand. Sand, sand and more sand, and Kakashi was coming to understand that this kid  _ manipulated _ sand. A kekkei genkai, maybe?

The boy rose to his full height, neck craned to the side as particles of his element danced around his body like silent threats in waiting. He watched the ANBU with a blank stare, eyes vacant and distant. There was no reaction to the assault, no shock or surprise or anger. But his eyes fell on Naruto, frozen in place on the ground, and Kakashi could see the faintest hint of  _ something _ there.

“What,” the boy breathed, low and raspy with an empty inflection, “are you doing to my friend?”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes and drew back. “Tenzō—”

A blast of sand shoved Naruto off his feet and sent him into the ground, a violent storm whipping up around them with the other jinchuuriki waiting in the eye of the winds. Tenzō was already acting. Kunai shot through the air. The defence stopped them dead in their tracks.

Itachi leapt out of the reach of Naruto’s hand as angry claws swung at him. His eyes were red now, and the fox—but no, this was not the fox. The fox didn’t wear angry eyes like that. The fox snarled like a cornered animal; Naruto bore his teeth in confusion and anger. The marks on his cheeks spread into violent lines along his face, a cloak of red chakra oozing from his body in a knee-jerk reaction.

Naruto’s eyes narrowed on them. “ _ You _ .” He took a step back. “Gaara—”

The other boy was one step ahead, bringing up a wall of sand between the two groups that forced a brief pause to the conflict. That was  _ not good _ . Kakashi knew Naruto, and Naruto would use the first chance he could to shunshin them away.

His eyes darted beyond the wall to the tiny oasis and he sucked in a breath, bringing his hands together in a rapid succession of seals. It was overkill, and it would take a lot of chakra, but—

But they couldn’t take any risks.

The water of the oasis surged upward as far as it could go, blocking out the moon as it built up, up, up. Then, just as quickly, it crashed back to Earth in one big, cascading wave. The wall of sand mercilessly washed away, the boys behind it swept up in the current. Naruto washed up at Kakashi’s feet, his body shaking and shivering in the cold.

He almost felt bad, soaking a pair of kids in the frigid desert night.  _ Almost _ , but Naruto had caused too many problems for him to truly wear that sympathy.

Kakashi cast his eyes across the waterlogged shores of the oasis, satisfied to see much of the other boy’s sand bogged down by the water of his attack. His teammates came in—Itachi pinned Naruto’s hands behind his back before he could get up and Tenzō coiled stocks of wood around the other boy, who seemed to be slightly less indifferent and slightly more miffed.

Naruto struggled, growling and hissing and squirming and  _ writhing _ against the hold. He twisted his neck, looked up from the ground and glared hard at Kakashi with a look that could peel paint. “I fucking,” he panted, “ _ hate _ water style.”

Kakashi smiled. It was a cruel, bitter thing. He crouched down before the kid and slapped the seal onto Naruto’s chest, watching red eyes widen and fade back into blue.

“Wh—” Naruto yanked against Itachi’s hold again, again and again and  _ again _ , each motion more desperate than the last. “ _ What did you do to me _ ?”

Kakashi’s smile fell and he stared down at the boy with nothing but contempt. “Maa, nothing much.”

“My chakra—”

“Suppressed,” he answered simply. “Get used to it. This is going to be your life until we reach Konoha.”

Naruto let out a snort. His struggles stopped and he grinned. “Won’t happen, jerk. No chance in hell am I  _ ever _ goin’ back.”

Kakashi and Itachi exchanged looks. Naruto may have been a terrible, no-good traitor to the village and a danger to everyone in Konoha, but at least he was tenacious.

“Captain,” Tenzō called, threads of caution in his voice.

Kakashi looked over and cursed. The other boy’s skin was cracked across the surface, pieces chipping off. He had a grin to his face, something wild and feral, something that looked so much more in place on Naruto and the fox than it did on that child. The cracks smoothed over as sand— _ more _ sand, sand from beyond the waterlogged heap left in the wake of Kakashi’s attack because  _ it was the Sage-damned desert _ —crawled up from the ground and slipped beneath the stocks of wood binding him. With one long, sudden push, the wood splintered and broke and pried away from the boy’s skin enough for him to slip right on through and regain his footing on solid ground.

He looked  _ angry _ .

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

Kakashi twitched and looked down, back to Naruto who was staring up. Red eyes back in place.

That was not Naruto and the seal was too weak to stop tailed beast chakra. Apparently.

Kurama sprang up and Kakashi evaded back, arms up and crossed and blocking the non-stop barrage of blows the fox sent his way. One after another came punches and kicks and physical blows that hurt but little else. There was no chakra shroud, no claws or fangs or transformation. Kurama’s attacks were distracted, focused on burning away the seal on his chest as he kept Kakashi’s hands busy.

Kakashi was not so simple an opponent.

He leapt back, put some distance between them, and moved through the motions of his hand seals. He sucked in a breath but stopped, eyes narrowed on the burns and lacerations across the boy’s skin and no, he couldn’t. They couldn’t risk hurting the boy more with fire release. So he broke the chain and made eye contact. A genjutsu would—

“Kai!”

The moment he was trapped, Kurama broke free. He was grinning, all teeth. There was pain in his eyes and a delay in his movements but he was still there, standing tall, his eyes daring Kakashi to try that again.

Kurama launched forward in a wave of speed and wind, his hand behind his back. The sharingan copied his movements perfectly and Kakashi found himself matching them, grabbing a kunai from his back pouch. Then Kurama was there and the edges of their kunai scraped together, sparks flying off the metal as they held their place. The kid was strong, a match for his strength at only twelve—thirteen?—years old. He didn’t try to push past, to overpower, because he needed time to  _ think _ . Genjutsu didn’t work. Tenzō was occupied—

He looked past the blond to the other jinchuuriki beyond. Half of the boy’s face was gone, an angry transformation into  _ whatever _ his tailed beast was. His arm hung longer and lower like a giant claw and lashed out at the ANBU trying to restrain him. Sand shot out like bullets but Tenzō’s wooden barrier came up, cocooning he and Itachi and protecting them from the near-constant assault. The wood cracked. It split and splintered and it wouldn’t be long before—

“Eyes upfront, mutt.”

Kakashi looked back to Kurama and cursed, leaping out of reach before a second blade could gut him. Shit. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted, but that other kid was an unknown. He was an unknown and they  _ knew _ Naruto,  _ knew _ Kurama, knew  _ what they could do _ . He took a steadying breath as his feet slid across the sand and he reached back into his pouch. Shuriken sailed through the air. Kurama’s quick reflexes saw none of them hitting.

Kurama was panting, though. Exhausted. His eyes were hazy and unfocused. Kakashi could see the way those red eyes scrolled, the repressed urge to look back at the fight going on in the background, and Kakashi couldn’t blame him. There was quite a show. Crows and wood and torrents of sand and  _ blood _ .

Kurama sniffed the air and his head snapped left, just enough to see the edges of the battlezone. “ _ Shit _ . Gaara—”

Kakashi brought his hands together and the water soaking the sand leeched up into the air. Beaded droplets flung towards Kurama like bullets and Kurama braced himself, wincing. His clothes tore and ripped and the coppery scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the already intense musk of pain and disinfectant.

Kurama’s knee buckled. He didn’t fall, not fully, not right away. Body broken and battered and aching and looking  _ so much  _ like he wanted to close his eyes and sleep. But he held himself up, his bangs falling limply into his eyes, a growl low and deep in his throat.

Kurama snarled like a cornered animal and took a step back.

“Stop  _ hurting him _ .”

Kakashi swallowed and straightened his back, taking slow strides forward, watching the muscles in Kurama’s arms and legs tense and constrict and Kurama was  _ afraid _ . That… That was good. That was progress.

But the seal on Kurama’s chest was more than halfway gone.

“Maa,” he breathed, and it came out sounding a little more tired than he liked. “Come quietly and I’ll stop. It’s a long way back to Konoha, Nine-tails.”

Kurama let out a broken snort and edged back, eyes darting to the side, to the angry assault of the other jinchuuriki. “Let’s say I do,” he mused. “We get to Konoha, and what? You extract me? That the plan, Hound? Do you intend to  _ kill _ my jinchuuriki?”

Kakashi narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

Kurama nodded, a raspy chuckle escaping his lips. He coughed. There was blood, wiped away on the back of his hand. “That damned Hokage won’t let a traitor run around with something like me inside him. I’m not being moved again, mutt.”

He wasn’t wrong. Kakashi would never say that, though. “Naruto won’t die.”

“You sure about that? You want to take that bet? I don’t. I—”

A loud scream cut through the air and both heads snapped around. Itachi’s body was a mass of crows, a distorted mess of a dispelling clone, and Tenzō was—

Tenzō’s body was encased in a crushing shell of sand. It compressed tighter and tighter until it conformed to Tenzō’s outline. Then tighter. Further. Dark stains oozed across the surface of the sand, reeking of blood and pain.

That boy—Gaara—was panting heavily, eyes wide and twisted into a wry grin. Most of his human form was gone, vanished beneath the shell of a tailed beast transformation. Shit. Shit shit  _ shit _ . Tenzō must have been trying to subdue him.

Before Kakashi could bring his hands together, could take a move to free his teammate, before Itachi’s body could re-emerge through the furious torrents of storm and wind, Kurama was gone.

Kurama was gone and then he was there, before Gaara, arms splayed wide and eyes bleeding back to a cold blue.

_ Naruto. _

“That’s  _ enough _ ,” he spat, the warning threads of a growl vibrating low in his throat. The storm raged on but Gaara’s smile fell. Naruto sucked in a breath, placing himself between the rogue jinchuuriki and the crushed victim in the sand, and shook his head. “Gaara.  _ Enough _ . You’ll kill him.”

Gaara’s eyes settled into their former indifference and the swirling winds calmed into something a little less chaotic.

“Please.”

Gaara twitched and his eyes snapped to the ANBU,  _ daring _ them to take one more step forward, to try one more attack. They didn’t. Kakashi never would—wouldn’t risk the life of a teammate just to meet the end goal of a mission. Then, through the muffled cries of pain on the air, the flurries stopped. The shell of sand around Tenzō shrunk away and his limp body fell carelessly to the ground, bloodied and injured but still breathing. Naruto smiled, stumbling forward on trembling limbs.

Gaara swept in and wrapped his arms around Naruto, propping the nine-tails up before he could fall. There was a muttered whisper and hazy eyes, a cough of blood, and a glance at Tenzō.

Itachi was at Tenzō’s side in an instant, bringing him close, holding him like a piece of glass. Tenzō smiled at him, weak and tired, and then his eyes were on Naruto.

Naruto tensed and looked away.

The last of the seal burned away and  _ shit _ —

A hand seal and shunshin later and the ANBU were left alone in the frigid air of the desert night.

Well, there went their chance. But Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to care. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before walking to Tenzō’s side and dropping down cross-legged next to his teammates. Tenzō didn’t look like he was all there, his body quivering and twitching with pain. His arms were crushed and bloodied, dragging limp along the ground. His legs were—fine, mostly, aside from the early signs of some nasty bruising.

“Maa,” he breathed, draping his arms over his knees, “at least your skull is intact.”

Tenzō laughed, a watery, crackling sound. He closed his eyes and hissed against the pain and decided that his best choice of action was not to move. A wise decision, probably. “S-sorry,” he breathed. “He started transforming. I didn’t want to… risk…”

“It’s in the past.” Seeing how much damage one jinchuuriki could do made this mission very real. Kakashi looked up to Itachi. Itachi, whose undivided attention was on their fallen teammate, whose eyes were shaking and hazy with a thousand unpleasant memories. “We’re returning to Konoha. The mission is no longer top priority.”

Kakashi wondered what his father would say if he were there to hear those words echoed from the son who rejected him. It was a passing thought, over quickly, and he sighed.

Where he expected retaliation—’the mission comes first’—he found closed eyes and deep-rooted understanding. Itachi nodded and slowly, carefully gathered Tenzō in his arms. He held his teammate close to his chest, gentle yet secure. “We’ll find a medic,” Itachi said, with all the resolve of a determined man.

Tenzō closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “Naruto’s nearby,” he said. “Don’t waste this chance.”

“No.” Kakashi rose next, shoving a hand into his pocket as he looked around the oasis with the clarity of his sharingan. All of the kids’ supplies were still scattered across the campground. There was a sealing scroll, blankets and a backpack. A bag of medical supplies was propped up against a tree, half covered in sand. “There are too many variables now. We have two opponents and we’re down a man. It’s not worth the risk.”

“...Sorry.”

Kakashi smiled with his eye and pulled his headband back into place. “You did well, Tenzō. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. Rest now. We’ll get you help.”

Protests fell away to silence as they walked, as he waited for his chakra to build back up for a long-distance shunshin that could put them closer to a village. There was Suna, but it was under lockdown. Konoha was too far. Now their rogue jinchuuriki had run off with Suna’s. They hadn’t landed a single damaging blow on that Gaara kid throughout their whole interaction. Naruto, injured and bloodied and looking like he needed  _ serious _ medical attention still managed to burn away a suppression seal and escape. They were three ANBU, one man down, working under a ‘do not harm’ handicap that made their most powerful jutsus inviable.

And Tenzō was hurt. Really,  _ truly _ hurt. And Kakashi hadn’t been able to protect him.

Naruto did, though. Naruto did, and Kakashi would never forget.

With enough chakra gathered up within him, he grabbed his teammate’s shoulder and they disappeared into nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I usually upload chapters of Menma and Karma together as a pair. But a funny thing happened. This little side story, this 'short prequel' as it was supposed to be when I started it... is currently longer than Karma, the parent story. And I don't just mean chapters, I mean word count. I, uh... I wrote ahead. Got a bit into it. Now I have 11 chapters written for this and I haven't yet touched Karma's side of things. So I could have waited until I got more done for Karma, but I thought hey, I'm several chapters ahead anyway, so why not post an update? So, here you go! Welcome to chapter 8, aka the Kurama chapter.

Kurama was furious. Naruto’s every pain was relayed to him in a haze and he snarled from within the bindings of the seal, thrashed and hissed and  _ demanded _ to be set free. But it was futile, he knew. It didn’t matter how many times he banged against those bars; they would never break. He would never regain the material form that he lost and his greatest fear was spending the rest of eternity chained to some damnable human and being used as a puppet.

Naruto was different from the ones before him. He wasn’t ruthless like Mito, or cold like Kushina. He could recall a great many years of residing within Kushina, completely immobile and locked in place by chakra chains. There was no freedom there. The days and weeks, months and years blended together like a perfect hell. All he could feel was through her. All he could see was through her. He saw that cur, Minato Namikaze, every damn day of Kushina’s adult life. He felt her random spurts of rage, her temper the only drawing pull of hatred that he could latch onto. And then he felt something else, something so warm and fuzzy and  _ gross _ that it made him want to tear himself right from her body and put as much distance between them as he could.

That feeling was human. That feeling was  _ Naruto _ . That small, pathetic life grew within her, distorted by exposure to tailed beast chakra but still totally, completely viable. With every day that tiny life developed, he felt that much closer to his chance, that much closer to the seal weakening. And he hoped and prayed to the Sage that they would fuck up, that they would misplan and that he could use that as his chance to finally be free of his hell.

He remembered staring down at that tiny, writhing,  _ noisy _ thing as his jailor and the Fourth Hokage dripped fluids from the tip of his claw. So small, so unaware of  _ everything _ going on around it. Helpless and pathetic. Tiny and useless and  _ his next jailor _ .

Kurama’s tails flicked, hitting the ground and causing the world of the seal to rattle and shift. Now he was there. Helpless and pathetic. The bars separated him from Naruto’s hazy figure beyond, the empty, retreated form of a tired child. Naruto did not even notice him. Naruto was in too much pain to see.

With a frustrated growl, Kurama closed his eyes and focused on the outside world. Naruto was stumbling along with uneven, loose steps, a bloodied hand dragging along the cliff of rocks to their left. His whole body was wracked with shivers from the cold but they had no blankets. No blankets, no food, no medical supplies, and Naruto’s chakra was horrible for medical ninjutsu. His control was abysmal and the little that he  _ could _ do would never be enough to cover all of that damage.

The seal was too restrictive. If it wasn’t, Kurama could use his  _ own _ chakra to heal all of those injuries. He’d used up all he could back in Suna, replacing the skin on Naruto’s body that had peeled away with the corrosion of his chakra. If it had just been that, they would have been fine. Two days, maybe three, and all of the sores would be gone from Naruto’s body.

Kurama fucked up. Kurama took the blow of water bullets head-on instead of dodging, and Naruto was suffering for it.

The worst part, though? The worst part was remembering that damn ANBU back from Minato and Kushina’s days, remembering that the child could use  _ lightning _ . Lightning and  _ fire _ and the brat was holding back, and if he hadn’t, if they came to  _ kill Naruto _ —

Kurama wasn’t used to feeling helpless. He didn’t know what to do about it.

Naruto stumbled. He tripped and fell with a  _ thud _ face-first into the sand. Kurama hissed. He tried to call out to Naruto but there was no answer. Then Gaara was beside them, crouching low. The warm press of a hand on their shoulder.

“Menma,” Gaara called softly, his voice strained with uncertainty.

No. He couldn’t allow this. Kurama forced his control, and it wasn’t as hard as it usually was; Naruto wasn’t coherent enough to argue. The moment he did, the echo of pain burst to life across his skin and he hissed and cursed and bit back a cry. It took a moment to compose. He breathed through the moment and forced his eyes down onto his body. The bandages were stained and dirty, torn. The ones on his left arm were damn-near falling off, not that they weren’t before.

Naruto needed medical attention. Needed it  _ badly _ .

He looked past himself at the terrain then. Sand gave way to soil and through his frustration, he took a moment to be mildly impressed. To get them so close to the edge of the desert… Naruto never shunshined that far before.

Of course, the kit was stupid and it took up almost all of his chakra. Now he was on the bleeding edges of chakra exhaustion with no way to even  _ try _ to heal himself, no way to get away if they were found again, and with so little stamina that they’d never hope to get away.

_ You are the worst, kit. The absolute worst. _

“Menma—” Kurama looked up at the name and Gaara’s eyes narrowed. There was quiet, Gaara’s arms lowered to his sides, and he tilted his head. “Red eyes. You’re the fox.”

Kurama let out a broken snort and cast his attention back down at their body. “Yeah,” he grunted. “Your friend is useless right now. I’m taking his place.”

Gaara nodded. “I understand.”

Strangely compliant, for a jinchuuriki that seemed to constantly be at war with his tailed beast. Well, Kurama wasn’t complaining. “He’s hurt. Badly. Do you know any medical ninjutsu?”

“No.”

“Figures.” It was worth a shot. Kurama knew some, even if it wasn’t his specialty, but with Naruto’s chakra reserves so low and his own blocked by the seal…  _ Oh. _ He grinned, lips pulled back to reveal his pathetically dull human teeth, and he cocked his head to the side. “Want to learn?”

 

* * *

Kurama was tired of the body collapsing. Right now, it was asleep. Gaara used his sand as insulation in place of a blanket. It doubled as a barrier against the wind, like a shield of warmth and security, and finally, Naruto could get some well-needed rest. Kurama hated that they couldn’t move, though—that they had to stop and wait out at least some of the pain.

Gaara was a talented shinobi when he put his mind to it. His control was better than Naruto’s, at the very least, and they’d managed to stop the bleeding. The holes from the water bullets were scabbed over and some of the burn from the chakra corrosion eased up. That was about all they could expect from a first-time healing. The rest would come with time. Time and patience.

Kurama was anything  _ but _ patient.

With the body asleep, Kurama was confined back into his little cage, back behind the bars, watching the empty shell of Naruto’s mind standing vacantly to the side, eyes cast to the darkness. Kurama lowered his head onto his paws and watched silently, waited for any sign of consciousness, and hoped it wouldn’t be long.

When Naruto finally looked at him, Kurama felt an eon of unease melt away.

Naruto blinked then, looked around at the world and then down at his hands. Back up, to the fox. “Kurama?”

Kurama let out a huffing snort and closed his eyes. His tails settled, no longer a flicking mass of irritation and stress. “You’ve caused me a world of trouble, kit.”

Naruto arched a brow and wandered over, placing a hand on one of the bars. “What d’you mean? Oh—is Tenzō okay?”

Of course. Worrying about an enemy. A typical, garbage Uzumaki train of thought. “Alive,” Kurama growled. “Unfortunately.”

Naruto laughed, loud and hearty and so very Naruto that it felt like everything was okay. He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped casually through the bars without a moment's hesitation. “Oh man, that's a relief. I thought No-brows was gonna kill him for sure!”

“I don't see a problem,” Kurama spat. “You just created a bigger mess by stopping him.”

Naruto pouted and waltzed over, his hands behind his head. “Harsh. Tenzō's the  _ nice _ one, y'know. Ah, Itachi wasn't so bad, either. That ramen was  _ so good _ . Remember the ramen, Kurama? The  _ ramen _ .”

Kurama rolled his eyes. He eased up a bit when he felt the small body press up against his side. There was a hand through his fur, tiny and gentle and, were it any other human's hand, he would have bitten it clean off.

He wasn't sure when he grew so attached to the boy. He shouldn't have. He did.

It scared him.

“Is Gaara okay?”

“Unharmed,” he muttered. “The monster trio couldn't get through his armour.”

Naruto grinned. “So I did something they couldn't?”

Brat. “They were focused on you. If Gaara was their objective, I'm sure they would have figured it out eventually.”

_ Hound could get through it,  _ he thought.  _ He has the speed. _ But Hound was off dealing with Naruto. With Kurama.

“Yeah, yeah.” Naruto huffed and threw his arms behind his head, staring out into the bleakness of his mindscape. His smile left, and with it went the light in his eyes. Kurama could feel something dark and miserable bubbling beneath the surface, poisoning the world of the seal. “Hey, Kurama?”

“Yes, kit?”

“We could have died,” Naruto acknowledged gravely, his voice quiet and even. “If they wanted to kill us—but they  _ didn't _ . And that's why we were able to escape.”

Kurama closed his eyes and hummed. It was rare for his brat to be so unflinchingly honest with himself. Perhaps he was growing up, right before Kurama's eyes. It was sickening, how much Kurama reminded himself of a proud parent. His tails flicked to show just how  _ unthinkable _ it was. But Naruto was not wrong. Naruto was not wrong, and he hated that more than anything because he was well aware of how terrible of a job he did at protecting his jinchuuriki. “Who knows?”

“Don't gimme that, Furball.” Naruto pushed off of Kurama's side and shifted cross-legged to glare at him. It came off weak, not threatening in the least, but points for trying. “What's our next move? Where do we  _ go _ ?”

“I don't know.”

“Kurama—”

“I really don't, kit.” He released a heavy growl of a sigh. “We're fugitives. There's no ultimate goal for us. All we can do is run to keep from getting caught.”

Naruto cursed out a lot of foul-mouthed words beneath his breath and looked away, arms crossed, body radiating his sour mood. “I don't want that.”

“A bit too late for second thoughts,” Kurama said, nudging Naruto with his paw. “We've injured one of their own. They won't take lightly to that.”

Naruto groaned and flopped back into Kurama once more, staring up with a pout. “I don’t wanna go  _ back _ ,” he stated matter-of-factly, “but I don't wanna be stuck doing  _ this _ all my life. Running. From  _ them _ . I don't want to worry about them hurting Gaara, or dragging me back to the village—or taking you away.”

Kurama snorted. Three of his tails came forward to curl around the tiny body nestled into his fur. “They can damn-well try. I'll eat them the moment that they do.”

Naruto chuckled, closing his eyes. “They trapped you in the first place.”

“That fool Hashirama was at fault. The wood nymph is dead. None of those wretches compare to his power.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “We can't keep doin’ this, ‘Rama. We can't just keep running. Let's break the seal.”

And Kurama laughed. He laughed because that fool was suggesting something that could very well get him killed. Naruto was a boy of optimism and naivety. He dreamed big when he had no idea of the consequences of seeing those dreams through—what was lost along the way. Kurama knew. Kurama watched Kushina’s dying body with innate satisfaction as her eyes darkened, as she held Naruto’s small body close, and she would have died there, slowly, even if she hadn’t impaled herself on his claw like a fool. He could remember Mito, too, as her eyes closed and the world of her seal grew cold and brittle. He remembered banging on it, watching with hope the cracks that he made, and then—

And then the hot rush of a new seal, a new prison, of chains gripping his body, keeping his power restrained. Of a new jailor, there beyond the pillaring bars of his prison, watching him with dark eyes and blood red hair.

Naruto was watching him then, his eyes blue and not dark, his hair so much like his father’s, and yet Kurama did not see his parents while looking at him. All he saw was Naruto. Naruto, giving him the opportunity that he always wanted. Naruto, willing to free him of his damnable prison and unleash him unto the world after so many years of servitude.

Naruto, the casualty of his freedom.

Kurama closed his eyes and swatted at the brat with his tail. “Are you that eager to die, kit?”

Naruto sputtered and flailed, shooting bolt-upright. “Wh— _ die _ ?! I don’t wanna  _ die _ , I just—” To Kurama’s laughter, he huffed, red-faced, and turned away. “It’s just… not fair. You never had a choice in all this crap. People made the decisions for you. And now you’re here. And I dunno what else to do. I don’t wanna keep  _ running _ , ‘Rama. I wanna stand up and fight. And if I can’t do  _ that _ …”

To fight, huh?

To break the seal.

Naruto grinned. “Bet you’d be able to kick all their asses, right?”

“Brat.”

He laughed. “Thought so.”

Kurama vaguely listened to the boy ramble, a sweet sound to his ears that had been absent from his life for the better part of two days, his mind rolling over those words in his head. To fight. To break the seal. To be free to roam the earth again, as he did for so many years before this wretched imprisonment, at the cost of his jinchuuriki.

Kurama never thought himself sympathetic. He never cared for human life before this. For nine months, that small lifeform growing within Kushina brought him nothing but disgust, and for twelve years, that disgust brought with it contempt. Now, it was something else completely. And he wasn’t sure what he should do. Kurama was lost, but he did have one plan spark to life at the back of those thoughts, an idea to push away the repetitive chase that the boy so tired of.

“Naruto,” he called.

Naruto’s never-ending tangent met an abrupt end. “Yeah?”

“Do you really wish to break the seal?”

 

* * *

The world beyond his mind was warm and cozy. It brought with it a secure comfort that it usually lacked, a soft, plush fabric caressing his skin like a gentle hug. When Naruto stirred, it was only to bring the material closer, flush with his skin, embracing the heat that coiled around his body like a shield against the cold. Many months had passed since he last had such a warm blanket. There were times when he longed for his bed, his apartment, however small and cramped and isolated it was. The loneliness was painful, and the echo of the walls made him feel small, but it was something familiar, something unchanging.

This was not his apartment. The scents were all wrong. He could smell grass and dirt and Gaara, could make out the wafting scent of something warm and delicious over a fire. There was bamboo and wood, the salty sting of sweat, and something else. A human scent, unfamiliar and strange, carrying with it earthy undertones and something that reminded him of a bog. His nose scrunched up. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, just unexpected, and he wasn’t sure what he thought of it.

A raspy chuckle made him tense. That was not Gaara’s voice. It was not Gaara, and whoever it was couldn’t have been anyone good. Naruto’s eyes snapped open. He was in a lodge—a cabin, maybe—with wooden walls and small windows and no furniture to speak of. Beyond the windows were trees, endless seas of leaves and branches and the occasional speckle of sky peeking through. It was a forest that he knew, that began to feel so much like home recently. There was no mistaking it. He recalled a desert, but beyond the threshold of that lodge was no sand, no sun. Wet leaves and wet grass, the musk of drizzling rain.

There was laughter again. He craned his neck back and all he could see was white. Unending flows of wiry white hair cascaded down from an old face. Kind eyes, a teasing grin. A  _ stranger _ .

Naruto shot up and scrabbled back until his back was flush with the wall and curled his lips in a snarl.

The stranger raised a brow, unbothered by the warning hiss that followed, and cocked his head to the side. “Lotta spunk for someone so beat up. Sit your ass down, punk, before you hurt yourself.”

Naruto’s eyes darted around the room. Gaara was not in sight. He could smell Gaara, smell him all over the room, but Gaara wasn’t  _ there _ and Naruto shouldn’t be  _ there _ and he needed to get away, maybe a shunshin, or—

The man leaned forward and broke Naruto’s hand seal before he could inject any chakra into it.

“I wouldn’t,” he cautioned. “Chakra exhaustion isn’t fun, kid.”

Naruto blinked. He looked down at himself. His panic was momentarily abated as he looked over the bandages on his arms, then his chest. His shirt was gone, though it wasn’t much of a loss—it was covered in blood and holes when he last saw it. He could feel the tight pull on his face, too, of medical tape. Down at his feet rested a little tray with a humble meal of miso, rice and fish, still steaming and fresh. He looked between it and the man, back and forth, until he hesitantly sat back down amidst the blankets and propped the tray up on his knees. His hunger won out against his insecurity and he poked at the rice with the offered chopsticks.

The man watched him eat for just a moment before going back to his previous task, grinding up herbs. “Not too bad, eh?” he asked. “Now, I’m no cook,  _ but _ I’ve been on my own long enough to have picked up a few things. Careful—it’s hot.”

It  _ was _ hot. He burnt his damn tongue and pouted.

Which only made the weird hermit guy laugh more.

“Naruto Uzumaki?” Naruto’s eyes went wide and he shoved the bowl back down onto the tray and tensed. But the man was just scratching his chin with a look of confusion. “Or is it Menma you’re going by now? Ah, it doesn’t matter. Your friend’s outside, in case you’re wondering. He’s been trying to learn how to cook. Kid’s not any  _ good _ , mind you, but—”

“Who are you?” Asking Kurama internally only got him the cautionary ‘don’t let down your guard’ and subsequent growl that proved totally unhelpful.

“Me?” The man’s grin widened and a short fit of giggles erupted into full-blown laughter. “Why, I’m the great Toad Sage of Mount Myōboku, legendary sannin of the Hidden Leaf, the one, the only,  _ Master Jiraiya _ !”

Naruto wasn’t sure what he was expecting. It was not that. “Oh,” he said, flatly. “I see. That’s cool, I guess.”

Jiraiya frowned, eyes narrowed on Naruto. “You really haven’t heard of me?”

“Not a word.”  _ But _ this old man was from Konoha. He knew Naruto’s name, too. That couldn’t be good. Still, Naruto’s wounds were being treated. There was food for him, a cozy room to protect against the elements. It didn’t seem all that bad. At the very least, he could leech off this weird, old guy until he was feeling well enough to make a run for it. “So, what? You gonna drag me back to the Leaf or somethin’?”

At some point, Jiraiya stood up and struck a pose in the middle of his grandiose introduction. That pose fell away quickly after and he plopped down cross-legged, brow cocked and grin ever-present. “Now why would I do that?”

Naruto eyed him. “Because I’m—”

“I happened upon your friend while you were sleeping,” he said. “I don’t know what kind of fight you got yourself into, kid, but you look like hell right now. Stop worrying yourself over what  _ I’m _ doing and focus on your health. Eat your damn meal.”

Did he really not know? Naruto raised a hand to his forehead and his eyes went wide. The hitai-ate he so proudly brandished was gone and all he felt was raw skin beneath his fingertips. He tried to remember when, where,  _ why _ —and then he did. When he entered Suna. Kurama cautioned him to hide it, said that Suna and Konoha were allies. It was in his bag—the bag that he left behind at the oasis in his haste to get away. It wasn’t much of a loss, he knew, but at the same time…

Maybe it was a good thing. He didn’t want to know how this Sage guy Jiraiya would’ve reacted to the symbol of a missing-nin.

But Jiraiya knew his name. He must have known what he was, then, too. Right? Why else would he know the name Naruto Uzumaki?

He flinched when he felt a hand in his hair and ducked out of it, glaring at the weird toad man, shifting away, and dragging the tray of food along with him.

Jiraiya huffed. “This is why I hate kids. Ungrateful little urchin.”

 

* * *

Night brought with it a subtle chill from the cabin doorway, barely-there winds breezing into the wooden enclosure with the soft kiss of autumn carrying over to the body that rested beneath the thick woolen blanket. Kurama opened his bloodied eyes out into the shadowed blues of the room. He could scent Gaara just outside, stoking the fire and secured by his sand. He could scent that man, too—the sannin. Kurama remembered the sannin all too well—Minato Namikaze’s sensei, a veteran of the second war, a name forever carved into Konoha’s history. Oh, he knew that man and knew just where his loyalties lie.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jiraiya chided, his voice carrying from beyond the door. “Come inside before it gets too cold.”

Jiraiya pushed past the curtains and into the room, looming in the doorway, silhouetted by moonlight as he cocked his head to the side and considered the boy who watched him from the furthest corner. Then he grinned, amused if nothing else. It made Kurama want to tear out his throat.

Jiraiya whistled. “Well, I’ll be. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you out and about. You certainly never came out when Kushina was around.” He stepped in and lowered himself down onto the tatami mat, legs crossed, relaxed as could be. He knew what he was looking at. He knew just what he was seeing and he didn’t care. Kurama didn’t know if he had an iron will, or if he was just stupid.

Ah, but he had Kurama right where he wanted him, didn’t he?

Kurama sat up and the blanket bunched around his waist as he stared the man down with a low growl of frustration. Of all the ninja they could have come across, why did it have to be this one? “You’re bringing him back.”

Jiraiya reeled back with a gasp, affronted by the accusation. “I most certainly am  _ not _ .” It came off as more than a bit patronizing. “I meant what I said, Fox. Naruto’s journey is no business of mine. But the kid’s hurt. And, to be honest, you’ve done a shit job taking care of him.”

Kurama roared in laughter, combing a hand through his hair as his lungs burned against the abrupt influx of air. “Oh, that’s rich. From  _ you _ ? Sage, that’s brilliant. You and that blond wench abandoned Konoha at the first chance you got.”

“I didn’t  _ abandon _ —” Jiraiya sucked in a breath, cupped his face with his hands, and groaned. Then, as his hands came down, he rasped out a spiteful chuckle, waggling a finger at the fox. “Oh, you,” he breathed, “I don’t like you.”

Kurama’s lips pulled back into a grin of dull, human teeth that looked far less menacing than he intended. “The feeling’s mutual. Why don’t you run along and leave my jinchuuriki alone before I  _ really _ get angry?”

“Oh, I’m scared.” Jiraiya leaned forward and sighed, rubbing at his neck, looking so much more his age than when he was speaking with Naruto. “I won’t ask why he left. I have a pretty good inclination. And you’re right—I’m in no position to be preaching to a deserter.”

Kurama huffed.

“But I’m helping these kids,” he stated firmly, with the resolve of a man with nothing to lose. “They’re hurt and they’re tired, and you may not give a damn about any of that but I sure as hell do. So you’re gonna shut up and let me do what I need to do, or I’m going to mend that seal so that you never see the light of day again. Understand?”

“As though I—”

“I’m not arguing this.  _ Understand _ ?”

The fox growled low in his throat and averted his eyes to his lap, to the arms resting on his knees, bandaged and battered with skin a gradient of purples and greens, with scabs still peeling and dried blood staining the white cloth of his bindings. He remembered the cold isolation of Naruto’s unconsciousness and the helpless dread of knowing that he was partially to blame, and clenched his fists.

He met Jiraiya’s eyes and his lip curled. “You tell  _ no one _ .”

Jiraiya crossed his arms and raised a brow. “Never happened.”

“Good.”

“Alright.”

“Fine.”

“Glad we had this talk.”

Kurama hated that man and everything that he stood for. The smug grin was just icing on the cake.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! I decided to upload this as a celebration of 2019 and I hope to hear what you guys think! If you'd like to read more, this story is connected to Outrunning Karma, my much fluffier time traveller Kakashi story. I'm aiming to update both stories at the same time from here on, but we'll see how that goes.
> 
> I hope this is the start of a wonderful year for all of you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The World Ended Yesterday - fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593397) by [Anjelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle), [Blackberreh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberreh/pseuds/Blackberreh)




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